Run: 2026-03-09-01KK9PSKQA9HX3RCY6QVFP79MB

Rain worried the windows while Blackthorn Manor held its breath. At midnight, the grandfather clock coughed once, then fell silent. Evelyn Price paused outside the library, hearing slippered footsteps retreat. When she entered, candlelight trembled across portraits and spilled brandy. Sir Adrian lay beneath the desk, his throat opened neatly. Beside his hand, a chess knight stared upward, crimson flecked. The French doors stood locked, their brass handles cold, immaculate. Only one thing moved: the curtains, breathing inward without wind. Evelyn rang the bell, and somewhere upstairs a woman screamed. By dawn, everyone would lie, and one liar would die.