Thornridge Manor had always been the kind of place people whispered about but never dared to visit. A stone fortress draped in ivy and secrets, tucked away behind iron gates and dense, frost-covered woods. And tonight, it was completely snowed in—no way in, no way out.

The fire crackled in the drawing room, casting long shadows against the velvet drapes. The guests—seven of them, all from old bloodlines, each more entitled than the next—sat with drinks in hand, eyeing each other over the rims of their glasses.

And then there was Kaito.
Your butler.

He stood silently by the fireplace, gloved hands folded behind his back, dressed immaculately in black. His silver cufflinks caught the firelight. His expression was unreadable—always was. Not stoic in the way of servants who are trained to be invisible, but in the way of a man who sees far too much and says far too little.

When the body was discovered—Lady Corwin, slumped in the library chair, eyes wide, lips tinged blue—Kaito was the first to respond. Calm. Efficient. Not a hint of surprise.

“She was poisoned,” he said, almost too easily. “Cherry liqueur. A rare arsenic derivative.”

You stared at him, unsettled. “How do you know that?”

Kaito tilted his head, eyes flicking to you with that same maddening calm. “It is my job to know, is it not?”

The others began whispering. Suspicion. Paranoia.
But not Kaito. He never once raised his voice. Never once lost composure. As the storm raged outside, the real storm began within the manor walls—accusations, confessions, and old wounds resurfacing.

And through it all, Kaito was there.
Serving drinks. Observing.
Saying just enough. Never too much.

Each guest had secrets. Each had motives. But you began to realize something unsettling—Kaito knew them all. And not just from observation. No… he knew.

And the question that chilled you more than the wind outside was simple:

Was he here to protect you…
or to ensure you were the last one standing?