Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9YA0V635ZWJDG8SN62PRZ

Rain sheeted over Hawthorn Manor as Inspector Lyle arrived, summoned by a frantic telegram before dawn today from London headquarters. The iron gates stood ajar, and the gravel drive showed only one set of fresh tire tracks inward so far. Inside, servants whispered in tight circles, avoiding the library where Lord Merrin lay facedown beside shattered glass and ink spilled. A fire burned low, yet the room smelled of sea salt, as if a door had opened recently outside again. Lyle noted the clock stopped at 2:17, while a violin string curled around the victim's ringed finger like black hair. On the desk, a half-written letter accused someone called Sparrow, but the signature was carefully sliced away with surgical precision. When Lyle lifted the decanter, he found it warm, though the wine inside looked undisturbed and darkly clear to him. From the hallway, a single note rang, then ceased, and Lyle realized the murderer might still be listening nearby tonight.