Old Dunling was still the same as ever; it seemed that the heavy rain hadn't changed anything, yet there seemed to be some subtle change that many failed to notice.
The door of 121A Cork Street hadn't opened in a long time, and no light shone from the windows. It seemed to have become an empty house, no longer inhabited by anyone.
Occasionally, passersby would stand by the roadside, casting their gaze towards the house. They vaguely remembered this place, remembered the grumpy old lady who lived there, the elusive tenant, and the guy who liked to do community service.
It seemed as if they had all left, doing who knows what. However, such thoughts did not linger long in the minds of the passersby. For them, the people and matters of 121A Cork Street were just a fallen leaf in life, not worth too much concern.
And so, dust slowly filled the steps.
Red Falcon stood under the distant eaves, watching the house from afar, taking the record someone handed to him, and sighed helplessly.
