Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA1KJ12MSS986YTRH1EZNX

Rain hammered Blackthorne Manor as midnight swallowed the gardens whole. Inside, candles guttered, painting corridors with nervous, wavering shadows tonight. Lady Ashford hosted twelve guests, all smiling too carefully indoors. Her violinist stopped abruptly, strings shrieking like distant sirens outside. A scream rose upstairs, then silence settled, heavy and final. Colonel Wren found the library locked, yet smelling of roses. When the door yielded, Lord Mercer lay facedown, unmoving there. No weapon showed, only ink stains on his fingertips alone. Detective Hale arrived soaked, studying each guest's trembling alibi quietly. He noticed one clock missing, and every watch running backward.