Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7RAFNZCFAX5TWVT8EFQG3

Rain lashed against the antique windows of Blackwood Manor, drumming a relentless, mournful rhythm throughout the house. A chilling draft permeated the grand library, carrying the scent of old books and damp earth. Lord Ashworth lay sprawled upon the Persian rug, a crimson stain blooming across his tailored waistcoat. His monocle had fallen, reflecting the flickering candlelight with a distorted, unsettling glimmer. The assembled guests, a collection of eccentric personalities, stood frozen in shocked disbelief, whispering amongst themselves quietly. Inspector Davies, a man of methodical habits and sharp observation, surveyed the scene with a grave expression. A priceless porcelain vase lay shattered nearby, fragments scattered like fallen stars across the polished floorboards. Lady Beatrice, the victim’s younger wife, sobbed dramatically, clutching a delicate lace handkerchief to her face. Mr. Finch, the family solicitor, adjusted his spectacles nervously, his gaze darting amongst the concerned onlookers intently. Miss Eleanor Vance, a renowned botanist, examined a peculiar flower pressed within Lord Ashworth's clenched hand carefully. The butler, Jeeves, remained stoic and impassive, moving with practiced efficiency to secure the library entrance promptly. A heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the crackling fire and the persistent rainfall outside. Suspicion hung heavy in the air, a tangible entity swirling like the swirling mist clinging to the grounds. Each guest possessed a motive, a secret, and a carefully constructed façade concealing a possible dark truth.