Run: 2026-07-09-01KX40WW39ZEEKQ9GGY1DYDDFK

At midnight, the grandfather clock stopped, and Lady Harrow screamed from behind the library's newly locked heavy oak door upstairs. By the time Inspector Vale arrived, snow had buried every footprint except one leading from the frozen lake toward town. Inside, twelve dinner guests stood silently around an untouched chessboard, each claiming they had heard the fatal shot from downstairs. Lady Harrow sat beside the cold fireplace, one gloved hand clutching a white pawn stained crimson at its narrow base. The pistol lay on the carpet, yet its silver barrel smelled faintly of almonds rather than burnt powder or smoke. Vale examined the pawn, then asked which guest had moved it after the clock stopped, and nobody answered him directly. Then a drop of blood fell from the chandelier, suddenly landing squarely upon the black king's polished wooden crown below.