Since Allen had left in pursuit of the fugitive, Rodion had stood in front of the Barkaley region's front gate, patiently waiting for him.
"Master," Susan called, her voice laced with concern, "it's raining quite heavily. We should return momentarily to retrieve an umbrella."
Rodion remained as immobile as a stone monument. Despite the rain gradually drenching his clothing, his gaze remained unwavering, affixed to the very road down which Allen had disappeared.
"Master!" Susan implored once more, "I'll go back and get an umbrella for you!"
As Susan departed, Rodion's watchful eyes finally discerned the familiar silhouette of Allen emerging from the distance and making his way toward the gate. A mix of relief and trepidation coursed through Rodion. He longed to run after Allen, yet a peculiar reluctance held him back, perhaps fueled by the premonition of what he already suspected – the grave actions Allen had undertaken in pursuit of the fugitive.
