Run: 2026-05-20-01KS25RXD8W608Q0MCW8KDP4WQ

Rain lashed against the leaded windows of Blackwood Manor, washing away any hope of a quiet, peaceful autumn evening. Inside, a grandfather clock chimed eight times, its heavy brass pendulum swinging rhythmically like a slow, deliberate beating heart. Lord Archibald sat stiffly in his favorite leather armchair, staring blankly ahead with eyes that could no longer see. A delicate porcelain teacup lay shattered on the Persian rug, surrounded by a dark, pooling liquid and white sugar. Standing in the doorway, the trembling butler clutched a silver serving tray closely against his chest, gasping for breath. He stared in sheer horror at his master's pale, rigid face, realizing immediately that the wealthy gentleman was dead. Suddenly, a cold draft swept through the dimly lit drawing room, causing the flickering candlelight to dance wildly. In the shadow of the velvet curtains, a gloved hand quietly closed the heavy oak door and locked it.