First Murder [1]

The moment I entered the study, I began to scan the room.

As one would expect from a study, there were multiple shelves filled with books of various sizes and colours. A large mahogany desk dominated the center of the room, with papers, an ink bottle, and a quill resting on top its surface. The faint scent of old paper and polished wood filled the air, mingling with a hint of something more subtle—perhaps lavender or an herbal tea left to cool.

Were it not for the encroaching darkness beyond the single window, this place would have felt utterly tranquil.

I continued my survey of the room.

A dark carpet stretched toward the center, while a small armchair, neatly positioned in the corner, invited quiet reflection. On the side table next to it rested an ornate lamp and an open book, as if someone had been interrupted mid-read.