Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKB0GW600S3G48XM18EJXRA

Fog clung to Marrow Street when Inspector Vale arrived alone. A brass key swung from his glove, still warm somehow. Constables waited silently outside Number Nine, curtains drawn tight inside. From within came no music, only ticking and whispered prayers. Vale entered, smelling coal smoke, roses, and something metallic nearby. On the parlor rug lay Miriam Hodge, eyes open, unblinking. Her teacup stood upright, yet its surface held no steam. A letter rested beneath her hand, sealed with blue wax. Someone had written three names, then scratched out the fourth. Vale pocketed the key, wondering which door it truly opened.