Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY9PPYM4A0FZVK74QXRJZDH

The fog clung to the cobblestone streets like a shroud on that moonless autumn night in Victorian London. Inspector Hargrove stepped from his carriage, his boots splashing in puddles that mirrored gaslight flames flickering nearby. He had been summoned urgently by a frantic telegram from the reclusive widow at Elmwood Manor. The wrought-iron gates creaked open, revealing a path lined with skeletal trees whispering secrets in the wind. As he approached the grand oak door, a butler appeared, his face pale and etched with unspoken dread. "Inspector, the master of the house lies dead in the library, foul play is evident," the butler stammered quickly. Hargrove nodded gravely, pushing past into the dimly lit foyer where shadows danced like accusing specters. The air was thick with the scent of cigar smoke and something metallic, sharp, and disturbingly familiar. He entered the library, where bookshelves towered like silent witnesses to the unfolding tragedy within. There, slumped over his desk, was Lord Harrington, a crimson pool spreading from a fatal wound in his chest.