Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2GS6GTH244AW6QNMHJC1BN

The rain slicked cobblestones gleamed under a single, sputtering gaslamp’s amber glow. A crumpled velvet glove lay near the wrought-iron gate, its fingers pointing toward the house. Dr. Alistair Finch paused, his umbrella dripping a steady rhythm onto his polished leather shoes. The front door stood slightly ajar, whispering a silent invitation into the darkened foyer within. Inside, a grandfather clock struck eleven, its chime swallowed by the thick, musty air. On the Persian rug, a spilled inkwell had formed a black, spreading pool like a wound. He stepped forward, and the floorboard creaked, a sharp protest beneath his careful weight. Then he saw her—a figure slumped in the high-backed chair, a crimson stain blooming across her gown.