Regression of ugly hero chapters 5: sun flower

Twelve years ago.

Night had fallen in Ice Village. Inside a small room at Grandpa Ted's inn, the quiet was pierced by the cries of a baby girl. Her tiny sobs echoed off the wooden walls as she clung tightly to a woman in her thirties. The woman, her short brown hair brushing the nape of her neck, wore worn-out clothes and a pair of white gloves—to keep the baby warm with her touch.

The door creaked open.

A man, not much older than the woman, stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. His steps were light as he approached the baby who was still crying.

"Oh no, what's wrong, my little girl?" he asked gently, his fingers brushing softly against her cheek.

"I don't know… she just suddenly woke up crying," the woman replied, rocking the baby in her arms, trying to soothe her.

Their names were Jason and Margaret, the parents of little Nancy.

As they both tried to calm their daughter, the door creaked again. They turned toward the sound and saw Grandpa Ted stepping in, a single sunflower held carefully in his right hand.

"Oh, my sweet granddaughter… Grandpa brought your favorite flower," Ted said warmly as he walked closer.

He held the sunflower up near Nancy's face. Her tiny hand reached out, grasping the stem. The moment her fingers wrapped around it, the sorrow on her face dissolved. Her cries faded into a bright, innocent giggle.

Jason glanced at Ted, his brows raised. "Dad… where did you find a flower at night?"

"I got it from Sandy," Ted replied, scratching his scruffy beard with a sheepish grin.

That night, the little inn bloomed with joy. Their laughter echoed through the room, drawn by the smile of a baby who clutched a sunflower tighter than anything else in the world.

Nine years ago.

It was a gray afternoon. Inside the now quieter inn, Jason sat across from Ted at a worn wooden table. Alexandria was in the midst of civil war against the rebels, and it had plunged the kingdom into crisis. Travelers were few, gold even fewer. The guilds had little to offer low-rank adventurers like Jason.

"We can't keep living like this!" Jason slammed the table, gripping a mug of beer in one hand.

Ted sipped his coffee calmly before setting the cup down with a quiet clink.

"But if you leave... who'll take care of Nancy?"

"This is all for Nancy," Jason insisted, eyes burning with resolve. "For two years we've depended on the inn, and now… if I want my daughter to live a decent life, I have to return to adventuring."

Ted's gaze sharpened. "You have a daughter now—a sweet, beautiful girl. Are you really prepared to throw yourself into that life again?"

"I'm not that little boy anymore, Dad. I'm a father and a husband now. And that means doing what a man must do."

He reached across the table and gently held Ted's hand.

Ted smiled, eyes shimmering. "To think… that noisy little brat grew into someone so responsible."

The front door creaked open, letting in a blast of cold air. Margaret entered, holding a three-year-old Nancy wrapped in her arms.

Jason stood. "Where have you been, sweetheart?"

"I went to see Sandy… the Duke's men came and took her to serve in the manor."

Nancy, in her mother's arms, was holding a sunflower. Margaret set her down, and Nancy toddled toward Jason with small, uncertain steps.

"Papa… papa!" she repeated cheerfully.

Jason knelt and scooped her up with ease. "You're so smart, my little girl," he said, nuzzling her cheek.

The three of them laughed and played together. In the middle of a frozen world, Nancy's laughter was a summer breeze.

Soon, she grew sleepy and curled into Margaret's arms.

Jason glanced over as Nancy suckled her thumb. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

"Margaret… you know our finances are barely hanging on, right?"

"I know."

"I'm thinking of becoming an adventurer again. What do you think?"

Margaret frowned deeply. "You know Alexandria is still at war… with rebels everywhere."

"I do. But at times like these, we need extra income. This is for Nancy's future."

"I still say no!" Margaret turned and climbed the stairs, refusing to look back.

Jason sat, defeated, his hands clasped tightly.

Two months later

Winter gripped Ice Village with iron hands. Snow blanketed the streets, and wind sliced through every layer of clothing.

Inside, Margaret sat near the fire, holding Nancy close for warmth.

Jason approached quietly.

"Our food supplies won't last another month and a half. Please, let me go."

Margaret glanced at Nancy. Her daughter's small frame trembled slightly, even by the fire. She closed her eyes. Her heart was torn in two.

"…Alright," she whispered, staring blankly into the flames.

Jason crouched beside her. "It's going to be fine. I'll be back safe," he said with a smile so warm it could melt the ice outside.

Days later

Jason stood at the inn's front, his gear secured to his back. The scent of leather and steel filled the air. He looked at Margaret and Ted—faces pale with worry.

Nancy, held in Margaret's arms, reached out a tiny hand clutching the now-wilted sunflower.

Jason's eyes glistened. The cold wasn't what froze his breath—it was the ache in his heart.

"I'll be leaving now… Dad, Margaret, and—"

His voice broke.

Nancy's small hand tugged at his coat. "Papa… papa…"

Jason stepped forward and gently lifted her into his arms. Her body trembled. Her cheeks were cold, but soft.

"I promise I'll come home," he whispered, tears rolling down his face.

He gently took the sunflower from Nancy's grip and slipped it into his coat pocket—more than a flower, it was a promise.

One month later

Winter began to fade. The snow melted into muddy trails, and the sun slowly warmed the land.

Every morning and evening, Nancy sat at the doorstep. Wrapped in an old blanket, clutching her sunflower. Her eyes scanned the road for someone who had yet to return.

Margaret walked up behind her. Her breath came out in puffs of white.

"Come inside, love. I made your favorite—apple pie."

Nancy looked up at her, then back to the road. "Papa's still not home."

Margaret crouched beside her and kissed her temple. "He will be. He'll come back with stories… and maybe a whole basket of pie."

Then, she saw it—a figure limping down the road. Margaret squinted.

"A traveler?" she murmured.

But something about that walk—those shoulders, the drag of one leg, the sword at the hip…

Margaret dropped the blanket and stepped forward, heart thumping.

"…Jason?" she whispered.

The man paused. His face gaunt, clothes torn, body slouched. But his eyes lit up at the sound of her voice.

Margaret ran, no longer feeling the snow beneath her boots.

"Jason!" she cried out again.

He opened his arms, barely standing, yet smiling through exhaustion.

"I'm home, Margaret," he breathed out.

Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she embraced him.

Nancy giggled as she rushed forward, and Jason picked her up despite his shaking limbs.

Ted stood at the door, his quiet smile hiding eyes ready to weep.

Inside the inn

Jason sat by the fire, Nancy on his lap. The warmth soothed his aching muscles. Margaret moved about in the kitchen, preparing tea. The scent of roasted herbs and burnt wood filled the air.

Jason shared stories—how he dodged ambushes, escaped traps, and burned a horde of undead in the dead of night.

Nancy laughed as he mimicked monster noises. Margaret smiled as she poured tea into chipped mugs.

Suddenly—

Krrk! Krrk!

Margaret coughed hard, startling them both. Jason looked over sharply.

"Margaret?"

She covered her mouth, but a dark stain of blood slipped between her fingers. Jason stood, quickly setting Nancy on a chair.

"Margaret—what's happening?!"

She tried to speak, but her voice was barely a whisper. "I… thought I could hold on longer…"

Jason froze.

His earlier joy drained like water through a sieve. The fire no longer felt warm.

>> To be continued...