Detective NY hears a sound most unusual, like a father’s compliment. Following NY’s lead, the group decides to investigate the sound of creaking from the upper balcony.

The staircase groans under their steps. The hallway above is colder, the lights dimmer. At the far end, a balcony door sways in the wind—ajar, though no one remembers opening it.

Outside, under the pounding rain, a single high heel lies on the wet balcony.

Ivy, narrowing her eyes: “Someone was out here. Recently.”

Saul, unimpressed: “Or someone just has bad taste in footwear.”

Goots waddles up, water flicking off their feathers. “You think someone jumped?”

Vinny, soaked and confused, mutters: “How tall is this place again?”

NY kneels beside the shoe. “No footprints. But this was placed here deliberately.”

Isen floats behind them silently, one bottle of Corgi Gin now half-empty, red eyes fixed on the stormy horizon.