A chilling wind rattled the windows of the manor. Inside, the grand ballroom lay eerily silent. Dim candlelight flickered, casting long, dancing shadows on the cold marble floor. Mr. Alistair Blackwood lay sprawled lifelessly amidst the dust motes. A single crimson stain bloomed on his pristine white waistcoat, a ghastly counterpoint to his pallid face. He clutched a shattered, silver pocket watch, frozen at half past eleven. The guests milled nervously around the body, whispers swirling like smoke through the room. Tension hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. Suspicion clouded every eye, accusations simmered just beneath the surface. Who among them was the killer, hid within this opulent den of secrets?