Run: 2026-07-09-01KX410YPYHFB220ZGXJD2VNQN

Rain polished the windows while Inspector Vale counted thirteen guests gathered beneath Blackthorn Manor's trembling chandelier just before midnight struck. Then the lights vanished, someone screamed, and a pistol whispered once from the library behind its newly locked oak door. When candles flared, Lord Blackthorn lay dead across his chessboard, clutching one white queen and a stranger's bloodied glove. Vale studied every face, noticing twelve frightened expressions, one empty chair, and muddy footprints ending abruptly beneath the curtained window. Outside, thunder rolled over the moors, while inside, the grandfather clock began chiming thirteen times for its murdered master.