Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2GM3FH68TCRZTGE5V71ESE

Detective Alma Cruz counted the raindrops racing down the morgue's frosted window. The fluorescent lights hummed loudly above the single steel table and its silent occupant. She noticed his perfectly polished shoes first, completely wrong for November’s persistent, miserable drizzle. His monogrammed cufflinks glinted under the harsh light, each one shaped like a tiny chess piece. "The river washed him up near the old docks," whispered the uniformed officer by the door. Her gaze stopped cold at the victim's unnaturally clean hands, folded neatly over his chest. No defensive wounds marked his pale skin, yet the autopsy reported death by violent drowning. Carefully, she lifted his left hand and discovered a single rook hidden beneath his palm. She turned the cold, carved ivory piece over and found a tiny, etched set of coordinates.