Run: 2026-05-19-01KS0TS7BR75ANMNPY05WDP6MX

The relentless autumn rain lashed against the cracked windowpanes of Blackwood Manor, washing away the blood on the terrace below. Inside the dimly lit study, Lord Harrington sat perfectly still in his leather armchair, a silver dagger in his chest. A single glass of expensive scotch stood unfinished on the mahogany desk, beside a crumpled note written in red ink. Inspector Vance stepped through the French doors, shaking the water from his heavy wool coat as he surveyed the scene. He noticed that the grandfather clock in the corner had stopped ticking at precisely four minutes past eleven last night. A faint scent of sweet perfume lingered in the room, hinting that the clever killer was someone standing very close.