Run: 2026-07-09-01KX41H1D1RKJPJH0JWV0KT5XX

Rain polished Blackthorn Manor's windows while Inspector Vale counted thirteen dinner guests and noticed fourteen place settings beneath the chandelier. At midnight, the lights failed, a woman screamed upstairs, and something heavy struck the library floor twice before silence returned. Vale lit a candle and found Lord Blackthorn dead beside an untouched drink, clutching a button carved from pale bone. Every guest arrived moments later, fully dressed, except young Clara, whose bare feet left no prints across the dusty hallway. Then the grandfather clock chimed thirteen, although its pendulum lay broken inside the locked cabinet, wrapped in yesterday's bloodstained newspaper.