Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQJN5QSEZ2EPX6RF02BJ0M

The grand estate loomed under storm clouds, its gabled windows watching like hollow eyes filled with forgotten secrets. Detective Harlan Mercer adjusted his coat, the gravel crunching beneath his boots as he approached the wrought-iron gates. A single raven perched on the fence post, its glossy feathers ruffled by the wind that carried whispers of impending doom. Inside, the air smelled of aged leather and lavender, though something metallic lingered just beneath the surface. Lady Whitmore stood by the fireplace, her trembling fingers clutching a monogrammed handkerchief stained with something dark. The butler’s polished shoes clicked against the marble floor as he announced the detective’s arrival with practiced indifference. A shattered teacup lay near the hearth, its delicate fragments scattered like the last remnants of a shattered alibi. Mercer noticed the portrait above the mantel—Sir Reginald’s piercing gaze seemed to follow him, cold and unblinking. The clock in the hallway struck midnight, its brass pendulum swinging like the blade of a guillotine over them all. Footsteps echoed from the upper landing, but when Mercer turned, the staircase stood empty, draped in heavy silence.