Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ7T2HKVMJ61CSGMRDQ4JRT

The rain fell softly on the cobblestone streets, pooling in dark, glistening circles beneath the flickering gaslight. A single crow perched on the wet fence, its feathers slick and ruffled from the cold, persistent drizzle. Inside the manor, clocks stood frozen at ten minutes past midnight, their hands unmoving despite the steady hum of electricity. Mrs. Abernathy, the housekeeper, discovered the body while delivering the usual morning tea on a fragile porcelain tray. Blood smeared the Persian rug in intricate patterns, resembling a grotesque piece of abstract art beneath the chandelier’s glow. The victim, Lord Reginald Blackwood, lay sprawled across his mahogany desk, a letter opener buried deep in his chest. His left hand clutched a torn envelope addressed in shaky handwriting, the ink blurring from moisture or perhaps trembling fingers. A fire crackled weakly in the hearth, casting dancing shadows that seemed to flinch away from the lifeless form nearby. Outside, the iron gates groaned in the wind, their rusted hinges echoing like mournful whispers through the empty gardens. No footprints marked the path from the terrace door, though it stood slightly ajar, swaying with each cold breeze.