Run: 2026-07-09-01KX41JZ9T3TD9RDJ38HNXZMB2

Rain stitched silver needles across Blackthorn Manor's moonlit windows. Inside, twelve guests toasted their absent host with champagne. Then the grandfather clock stopped precisely at eleven minutes. A scream rose sharply from behind the locked library. Inspector Vale entered, counting muddy footprints along the marble. There were thirteen, though only twelve guests stood trembling. Beyond the door, Lord Blackthorn sat beside cold ashes. A jeweled dagger protruded from his shadow, not body. On the desk, fresh ink spelled one name: Vale. Someone whispered, “Inspector, your gloves are stained with blood.”