Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK96T2F9AET993PMW2G476M

Fog licked the harbor as lanterns trembled, and the town woke to rumors thicker than the morning mist and shadows. At the docks, Mae Carver unrolled a map, counting footprints, listening for breaths that never reached the surface that night. The pier's edge glowed with slick rain, and a violin case lay open, revealing silence instead of strings, waiting nearby. From the alley, a streetlamp flickered, casting a halo around a chalk outline and a single wilted rose on cement. Mae knew every case began with noise and hesitation, not confession, and this one hummed with unanswered questions from everywhere. A distant bell tolled twice, as gulls wheeled above, and the town pressed closer, hungry for certainty and spectacle tonight. A rumor claimed the victim wore someone else's name, a confession hidden beneath linen collars and smiling photographs at home. Mae folded the map, sealed the case in her mind, and stepped into dawn's cold breath to begin the work.