Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5PH95FYY7JMBD9DGKPH2Y

A single lantern swings above the cobblestones, casting long, dancing shadows across the wet, narrow alley. Inspector Graves stepped over the threshold into the silent, opulent study. The body of Lord Ashworth lay sprawled beneath his own gilded portrait, quite still. A single, perfect black rose was placed upon his unmoving, linen-covered chest. No window was broken, and the study's only door had been locked. The inspector carefully noted the missing emerald pin from the lord's cravat. A faint, peculiar scent of almonds and salt lingered in the still air. Every clock in the mansion had stopped at precisely the same hour. Outside, the rain began again, whispering secrets the dead man could not.