The rain fell hard on cobblestones, each drop echoing like a whispered secret in the silent, moonless night. Detective Mara Voss stood under a flickering streetlamp, her coat soaked, breath visible in the cold October air. A body lay sprawled near the alley’s mouth, one arm outstretched, fingers frozen as if reaching for salvation. Blood pooled beneath the victim’s head, mixing with rainwater, forming dark tendrils that crept toward the gutter. She knelt carefully, noting the victim’s wide eyes, the lips slightly parted in a final, unanswered question. No wallet, no phone, no identification—only a silver pocket watch stopped at precisely ten seventeen. The watch had an engraving inside: *To E, forever yours, L.* Her flashlight swept the ground, catching a glint: a single pearl button resting beside a broken umbrella. Footprints led away but vanished after ten feet, as though the killer had simply disappeared into mist. A neighbor’s curtain twitched, then stilled, but no one came forward despite the sirens drawing near. The first responder said, “He’s been here at least an hour,” voice low, eyes scanning the shadows. Mara said nothing, studying the victim’s hands—clean nails, no signs of struggle, yet bruising on the neck. She thought, *This was personal*, and wondered what promise or betrayal had ended so violently here. Above them, a raven perched on a gargoyle, watching with an unnerving stillness that felt almost deliberate. She stood, pulling out her notebook, and began to write, each word measured, each thought a careful step. The city breathed around her, indifferent, but she knew this death would ripple far beyond this wet, dark street. By dawn, the headlines would scream, but for now, only the rain bore witness to the truth.