Run: 2026-03-09-01KK9QDP3AENH396EB25PPBV4D

Rain worried the stained windows of Blackthorn Manor as Inspector Vale arrived, hat dripping, and found every curtain tightly drawn. In the candlelit hall, seven guests watched the grandfather clock shudder toward midnight while thunder covered a woman's strangled cry. Vale followed the sound into the library, where Lord Ashcombe lay beside the hearth, silver opener lodged beneath his breastbone. No window stood open, no servant had entered, and the only key rested calmly in the dead man's pocket tonight. On the mantel, beneath a smiling family portrait, melted wax pinned a single black rose to yesterday's evening invitation card. Vale removed his gloves, studied the unmoving faces, and knew the storm outside was kinder than anyone remaining inside tonight.