I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra) novel Chapter 62

Jacob dutifully fell silent, but he couldn't hide the joy and excitement dancing in his eyes as he looked at me.

Myron glanced between us. "What? You're coming over? Fine, I'll send you the location."

I wasn't about to meet anyone who knew my alias. If Myron wouldn't honor his word, I would just leave. I stood up and tapped him on the shoulder. "I'm heading to the hospital to see Uncle Julian," I whispered. "See you tomorrow."

Without waiting for his reaction, I gave Jacob a quick nod and walked out. It wasn't like I was officially on the clock yet; I'd only just finished my onboarding.

I heard Myron saying something behind me, but I tuned it out. I vaguely caught the words "hospital" and "someone's sick." He was probably just making an excuse for Somania's sudden departure to whoever was on the phone.

I didn't care. No sane person would come looking for me at a hospital.

Horace was surely with Uncle Julian, so I picked up two takeout containers on my way over.

The door to the hospital room was ajar. Through the opening, I could see Uncle Julian and Horace sitting side-by-side, hunched over a chessboard. Horace’s handsome face was a mask of concentration, as if he were facing a formidable enemy, while Uncle Julian, dressed in his hospital gown, looked completely at ease.

Uncle Julian’s complexion was much better than it had been yesterday. I smiled as I pushed the door open. "What are you two so focused on?"

They both looked up at the sound of my voice. Horace’s clear eyes lit up when he saw me, and a bright smile spread across his face.

"Zephyra, you're back! Did everything go smoothly?"

"Perfectly," I replied, smiling back. "You two haven't eaten yet, have you? I brought food."

Horace’s eyes flickered, and he turned to me. "Zephyra, want to play a round?"

I immediately waved my hands in refusal. "No way. Chess is too complicated for me. Besides, I can tell Uncle Julian is a master. I'm not looking to get crushed."

Julian burst out laughing. He seemed to genuinely enjoy my compliments. Every time I praised him, he beamed, but when others did—like Horace just now—he would only give a faint nod.

Horace laughed too. "It's true. Uncle Julian is fast, ruthless, and precise. Even a veteran player would have a hard time losing gracefully to him, let alone a novice. His style, though, reminds me of someone."

"His name is Omar. He was a Grandmaster, a true prodigy, but he retired from the circuit years ago and disappeared from the public eye."

"Uncle Julian, since you play, you must have heard of him, right?"