Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQ1SN64G3YJV83EVPYPYT0

The rain hammered against the cobblestones, turning the gaslight’s glow into a hazy, golden smear. Detective Harlow adjusted his hat, watching the water pool around his polished, black leather shoes. A scream sliced through the night, sharp as the knife now lodged in the victim’s chest. The body lay sprawled across the alley, limbs twisted like a discarded marionette’s broken strings. Blood mixed with rainwater, swirling into the gutter where the city’s secrets always seemed to drain. Harlow knelt, his gloved fingers brushing the victim’s coat—expensive, tailored, now ruined beyond repair. A single playing card, the Queen of Spades, rested between the corpse’s stiff, pale fingers. The victim’s eyes stared blankly at the sky, reflecting the storm clouds like shattered glass. A witness stood trembling in a doorway, clutching a tattered shawl around her shaking shoulders. “He was alive just minutes ago,” she whispered, her voice cracking like thin ice underfoot. Harlow’s gaze flicked to the rooftops, where a shadow darted just beyond the reach of light. The killer had vanished, but the scent of cigar smoke lingered, thick and cloying in the damp air. A pocket watch, stopped at midnight, lay cracked open near the victim’s outstretched hand. The detective’s mind raced, piecing together fragments of a puzzle no one else could see. This wasn’t just murder—it was a message, written in blood and left for him alone. The storm raged on, indifferent to the life snuffed out in its relentless, cold embrace.