Run: 2026-03-09-01KK9Q3CQVZG7KB5QX6R1KQNTX

Rain worried the manor windows while guests in black silk drifted through the foyer, pretending the storm outside mattered more. At half past ten, Lady Hargreave raised her glass, smiled at no one, and suddenly collapsed beside the grandfather clock. The violinist missed a note; then silence spread, cold and deliberate, as crimson threaded between the tiles beneath her slippers. Before anyone moved, the candles guttered, the doors slammed shut, and someone laughed softly from the unlit gallery above them. Inspector Vale, uninvited and inconveniently sober, stepped from pantry shadows, studying faces first and the sprawled corpse second that night. He bent once, touched the shattered stemware, and announced that the killer remained inside the room, listening in careful silence.