Smoke swirled from the fireplace, casting dancing shadows on the opulent drawing-room, the flicker barely reaching the lifeless figure slumped in an armchair. Rain lashed against the tall windows of the manor house, blurring the elegant silhouette of the sprawling estate against the stormy twilight sky. The ornate chandelier illuminated the scene, catching the glint of polished copper in a nearby lamp, a single hair running with red dye, shimmering like a crimson thread on the tapestry of the drawing-room, lay beside the victim. A single, crimson rose, its stem snapped, lay next to the lifeless hand, a stark contrast to the lavish decor. Detective Anders Sterling, a man with a face etched by years of chasing shadows, surveyed the cold, hard evidence of a macabre scene. The room, usually abuzz with laughter and boisterous debate, was now shrouded in the smell of cedar and a chilling silence.