Run: 2026-09-23-01M37NVRQJW772TTEE1Z9AR2HY

The heavy rain hammered against the windows of Blackwood Manor as Detective Sarah Chen arrived at the crime scene tonight. Inside, the lifeless body of old Lord Edmund Blackwood lay sprawled across the Persian rug in his candlelit study room. A silver letter opener protruded from his chest, and his cold eyes stared blankly up at the ceiling above him. The elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Whitmore, had discovered the body at midnight while bringing his usual nightly cup of chamomile tea. Now she sat trembling in the dim hallway, wrapped in a thick blanket, refusing to speak to anyone at all. Sarah knelt beside the body, noting the absence of any blood spatter and the strange calm expression on his face. Whoever killed him had done it quickly, very quietly, and with a precision that suggested this was not random violence. On the desk beside him, a chessboard showed a game in progress, with black just one move from certain victory. The white king had been knocked over, as if by a hand that trembled or perhaps by one now gloating. Sarah picked up a torn photograph from the floor, showing Edmund with three people whose faces had been carefully removed. Outside, thunder rolled across the moors, and somewhere in the shadows of the house, a clock struck the half hour. Sarah knew one thing with absolute certainty: whoever had cut those faces out was still hiding somewhere within these walls.