Chapter 583 Running on Empty and Dying Soon
Alan was gripped by a chilling sense of dread.
Pacing his office, he couldn't shake the feeling that James' time was running short.
Could it be that James was on his last legs, seeking a quiet corner to await the inevitable?
The thought was unbearable. Without hesitation, Alan grabbed his phone, issuing a directive, "I need you to find someone. He's tall, about 6 feet 2, thin, with somewhat long hair, and you'll notice he wears a mask. He might cough from time to time. If you spot him, don't approach; just keep an eye on him and let me know where he is."
Having once lost track of James, Alan was determined not to let him vanish again, not when he knew James was still out there.
Soon after, Patricia returned, looking utterly defeated, as if she'd left her soul behind somewhere.
Concerned, Alan asked, "Ms. Watson, are you alright?"
Patricia seemed detached, her voice barely above a whisper. "James has left..."
Alan stood frozen, unsure of how to respond.
Patricia's voice was laden with sorrow. "He's really gone. I was fooling myself all along. He never cared for me."
The sadness in her words was palpable, cutting Alan deep.
Trying to hold back his own emotions, Alan offered what comfort he could. "Ms. Watson, if he's chosen to leave, we have to let him go. Maybe it's for the best."
Patricia slumped into her chair, the weight of her realization too heavy to bear.
There was no destiny tying her to James. They were never meant to be. Beyond his name, she knew nothing of him. For all she knew, he could have someone else in his life.
Despite her attempts to rationalize her feelings, the pain lingered, leaving her wondering how to move on.
Alan, torn, found himself unable to do anything but avert his gaze, unable to witness her despair.
...
Alan's heart sank as his team, a loyal group left behind by Martin, tracked down James' current residence and relayed the information to him. Without a moment's hesitation, Alan made his way to the reported location, his heart heavy with dread and sorrow.
The neighborhood he entered seemed to carry decades of history on its shoulders, the buildings worn and neglected, with peeling tiles and dusty corners webbed with spider silk. Despite the surrounding decay, there was an odd sense of cleanliness to the paths that wound through the community.
James had taken up residence in a third-floor apartment of this aging complex. The dimly lit hallway, overshadowed by the tall structures around it, forced Alan to rely on his phone's flashlight to navigate the gloom.
With each step closer to James, Alan's heart grew heavier, lamenting the stark contrast between James' past life and his current, desolate circumstances. And now he was living here, waiting to die.
"Cough... Who's there?" a familiar voice responded from inside.
Alan felt like he was in another world, his eyes quickly filling with tears.
He fought to keep his emotions in check and said firmly, "Boss, it's me."
The response was silence.
Worried he might be refused entry, Alan pressed on, "It's just me. Ms. Watson isn't here. Boss, please let me in. I need to talk to you."
Still, no reply came from inside.
Just when Martin thought he would continue to hide, the door opened. James' pale, bloodless face came into view.
Just two days had passed, but it felt like twenty years. His eyes were filled with crimson, and his face was not just the pale shade of someone weak but a pale shade with a hint of dark circles. It was clear that he was critically ill and wouldn't survive much longer.
Shocked by James' deteriorated state, Alan instinctively reached out to offer support, his mind racing with concern. "Boss, this... how did things get this bad so quickly?"
James attempted a weary smile, a ghost of his former humor flickering in his tired eyes. "You know, they say people get a burst of energy before the end."
Alan, stricken by James' attempt to jest in the face of his grim reality, felt a surge of emotion threaten to break through his composure. With a resolve born of desperation, he urged, "We need to get you to the hospital."
James waved his hand. "There's no need."
Alan's voice grew urgent. "James!"
Trying to appear nonchalant, James responded, "I've just been to the hospital. I know my own condition better than anyone."
But Alan was persistent. "Medical science has come so far; there must be something they can do. Ms. Watson has been distraught these last two days. Can you really stand to see her suffer like this?"
Mention of Patricia stirred something in James, but he quickly retreated into silence.
"A couple of days of heartache is enough," he finally said.
He knew Patricia was looking for something in him that wasn't there. Her feelings were not for James himself but for the man she hoped to find in him – Martin.
If James were to leave, Patricia might grieve. But a brief grief, he reasoned, was preferable. He feared a longer association would reveal his true identity. And then Patricia would face the agony of losing him all over again – a torment too profound to release.
Alan settled James on the sofa, then walked over to shut the door.
The room, though small, was neat and orderly. Alan thought it wouldn't be a bad place for someone like him, single and accustomed to modest living spaces.
Yet, seeing James in such a place filled him with an overwhelming sense of sorrow.
Resting on the sofa, James murmured, "Don't come here again. If it gets to the point where I can't hold on, I'll call you. You can come then... to take care of what's left."
Alan felt tears threaten. "I can't just stay away! You're my boss, and you always will be. I owe everything to you."
James gave a wry laugh. "You made your own way. I wouldn't have kept you around if you didn't have the talent and skills."
Alan stood firm. "Without your guidance, I'd be just another guy."
James didn't press the argument.
Unconvinced, Alan spent the day taking care of him, doing laundry, running errands for food and medicine, and only left late in the evening.
Before leaving, he reassured, "Get some rest. I'll be back tomorrow. And I'll find you a better place. This isn't right for your recovery."
Once alone, James reclined on the sofa, staring at the dim chandelier overhead, his gaze tinged with sadness.
It was clear he couldn't stay in Ivara City any longer.
He didn't want to be a burden.
The next morning, Alan was jolted awake by a call from a team member.
"Alan, the guy we kept an eye on yesterday got a train ticket early today. Looks like he's planning to leave."
Instantly wide awake, Alan sat up. One thought dominated his mind.
James was leaving, without a word, and this time, he was leaving Ivara City for somewhere far beyond.
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