Outside the shop, Catherine looked up.
“Rain incoming,” she said.
Thick clouds covered the sky.
At first, it was just a drizzle, but it was getting steadily stronger.
“The station’s this way.”
“Are we headed back?”
“No, we’re going the other direction.”
There was no sign of rain before lunch. He grumbled and stepped out into it—and a noise made him turn. Catherine had opened an umbrella. A bright-blue one. It really stood out on this gray day.
“I happened to have a folding umbrella on me,” Catherine said, holding it out.
He took it on reflex.
“Let’s share!” she said.
“Okay………………………um?”
“Onward!”
The Saint’s shoulder bumped against his left side. It was so slender, he had no clue how she could have made that long shot.
“……Hang on.”
“Yes, Detective?”
“……This’ll just leave both our shoulders wet. It’s your umbrella, Catherine. You use it.”
They’d stopped under the restaurant’s eaves.
“But then you’ll get drenched. Who cares about a shoulder? Stop fussing and get in here.”
Catherine smiled out of pure kindness. He knew that. Even she could not be plotting anything here. But Rogue’s body refused to budge. He could tell his face had gone all stiff.
Rain spattered off his shoulder, striking his neck. It was the middle of autumn, and only fifteen degrees out. If he got soaked in this would quickly freeze. That was true for the Saint, too.
He let the muscles in his face loosen and mustered a facsimile of a smile.
“Fine,” he said.
“Ah-ha-ha, you’re massively overthinking this.”
“………It doesn’t bovver you at all?”
“‘Bovver’?”
“Bother!”
Correcting himself, Rogue made his feet move, each step extra careful, like he was on a tightrope.
Catherine watched him, looking baffled.
“Um, what would even bother me?” she asked.
He gaped at her.
“What…? What else?” Catherine was nodding, taking him seriously. He continued hesitantly, saying, “You know… See?”
“Right.”
“……………”
Rogue was plodding along, and Catherine matched his pace. It was hard to tell which of them was holding the leash. The hair beneath her veil was swaying like that of a dancing girl. One eye on that, he choked out the words.
“Remember, Catherine, you’re the one who warned the chief about statements that run against public decency.”
“Um, I’m not flaunting any skin. I’m even wearing gloves! As are you, Detective.”
Her glove touched his. She was poking him with her finger. His shoulders jumped.
“See?” Catherine smiled, as if demonstrating her generosity.
“……Let’s just go with that.”
He was exhausted already. Persuading her seemed an unsurmountable task.
The rain was getting stronger. He could hear it pattering on the umbrella. There was no use caring about how damp his trouser cuffs were getting. On they walked.
Their destination wasn’t that far away, but it sure felt like it was taking forever.
“Perhaps this is inappropriate,” Catherine said, “but this is far more fun than investigating things on my own.”
“……Maybe it is.”
He went along with it.
“I often saw Bureau officers when I was in town. They’re always acting in pairs, and I thought that was cool. Once, I even saw them arresting someone! I was happy to help out the Bureau, but I had no one to talk to. I was just running around town, all on my own; it got rather lonely. Angene never leaves her room.”
“Humafu?”
“She tends to vanish on you.”
There was a slightly louder splash.
Catherine offered a bashful smile.
“Sorry, investigations are no game. Forget I said anything.”
She faced forward.
“……Listen, Catherine…”
“Yes?”
“……No, never mind.”
But Catherine had stopped in her tracks. She was staring at a gap between two buildings.
Rogue followed her gaze and saw a young child in the alley. The roofs overlapped, providing shelter from the rain. The kid was standing there, crying and rubbing their eyes as they sniffled.
“What’s wrong?” Catherine asked gently. She was speaking in far softer tones than usual.
“My brother… We were playing hide-and-seek…and I can’t find him anywhere…,” the kid said, looking up. I didn’t see any umbrellas around—it must have started raining while they were out playing.
“Detective,” Catherine said, looking at him. “Can I help search for this brother?”
“Uh, sure,” Rogue said. “I don’t mind. Go look for him—I’ll head on alone. Call me if you find him.”
“Will do. Thanks for letting me do this.”
Catherine bowed her head.
Her hair dangled down, almost touching the wet ground. That made Rogue feel guilty.
“No need to thank me. I didn’t do anything. Here.”
He handed her the umbrella.
“Even so,” she said, bobbing her head again. She took the kid’s hand. “Okay, let’s go look for your brother!”
They walked off, vanishing into the downpour. Rogue absently watched them go.
The rain was getting real hard, like bullets. Visibility was poor; even a few yards out was blurry. Catherine could likely use magic to ward it off, but…
Rogue shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes turning to the intersection up ahead. He’d said what he said, but he felt like waiting out the rain a bit. He lurked in the dry alley, watching people flee the deluge.
A few minutes later, the sound of the rain shifted. It wasn’t falling anything like as hard now. He could see light on the far side of the intersection.
Time to move.
He darted toward the intersection and across the crosswalk, by which point he could see Dicky’s residence: a five-story dormitory on a deserted backstreet.
Inside, Rogue headed for the top floor. There was no elevator, so he had to take the stairs. He didn’t pass anyone along the way. He found Dicky’s room and frowned.
There were wet footprints outside the door.
_____No way.
His heart was beating faster.
Is Chronos waiting for me?
Is there some critical evidence inside that he came to destroy?
No, there was another possibility. Those footprints weren’t trying to hide. Perhaps he had gotten rid of the evidence, then set a trap for anyone else who came along. That seemed like Chronos’s style. He’d sprung a trap on the Saint, then nearly turned her and Rogue into human fireballs.