Free Web NovelChapter 159: A Hero?
I woke up on a soft bed.
It was a strange feeling. For years, I had woken up on a thin mattress that sagged in the middle, my back aching, my neck stiff. But this bed was different. It felt like something I could actually rest on.
I lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling.
’This is my house.’
The thought still hadn’t fully settled in. It felt like a dream I would wake up from any second.
I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.
Today, I needed to buy and order many things. Furniture. Appliances. A proper wardrobe. The house was still empty. It needed to become a home.
I stood up and walked to the bathroom.
The mirror showed me a face I almost didn’t recognize. Not because it had changed. But because the eyes staring back at me looked different. Less tired.
I splashed cold water on my face and dried it with a towel that was still new, still stiff.
I walked down the stairs.
The house was quiet. The wooden steps creaked under my weight, but it was a good sound.
I reached the kitchen and stopped.
’What should I do for breakfast?’
My eyes drifted to the counter. A pack of instant noodles sat there, untouched. I had bought it out of habit. Old habits. The kind that didn’t die easily.
I looked at the kitchen. The stove was clean. The pans were new. The fridge was empty, waiting to be filled.
’Should I make breakfast? Or should I just eat the instant noodles?’
For the past year, I had eaten nothing but fast food for breakfast. My office timings were tight. I had no time to cook. Grab something quick. Eat it on the way to work. Forget the taste before I finished chewing.
I sighed.
Even thinking about it made me tired.
’Speaking of which...’
I needed to give my resignation letter to the manager. That was today. I had already drafted it last night and typed it out on my new laptop.
All I had to do was print it, sign it, and hand it over.
No more office. No more clocking in and out like a machine.
I looked at the instant noodles again.
Just as I decided to eat them and get it over with, the doorbell rang.
-Ding-dong.
I frowned.
’Who could it be?’
I walked to the door and opened it.
And there she was.
White hair. Red eyes. That impossible face that didn’t seem to belong to this world.
She smiled softly, her eyes meeting mine.
"Oh, it’s you," I said.
"Yes, it’s me," she replied.
I shook my head and asked,
"Is there something you need?"
She nodded.
"Yes. I am new to this city. Could you give me a tour?"
I stared at her for a moment.
A tour. She wanted me to show her around.
I should have said no. Should have made an excuse.
But I didn’t. I... wanted to change.
"Sure, but if you’re okay with it, I do have some things to do while we’re at it."
She smiled again.
"I have no problem at all."
I nodded and turned back into the house.
My eyes paused on the instant noodles again. The pack sat on the counter, waiting.
But strangely, I had no interest in eating it anymore.
...
We left the house together.
She walked beside me, her white hair catching the morning light. People stared, of course. They always did. But she didn’t seem to notice.
I led her through the streets, pointing out the shops, the cafes, the parks. She listened quietly, nodding at the right moments, asking the occasional question.
It was strange. I wasn’t good at this. Small talk. Tours. Being around people.
On the way, I stopped at a few stores. Bought furniture. Ordered appliances. Gave them my new address and told them to deliver it all by the end of the week.
I even submitted my resignation letter.
The manager looked at me like I had grown a second head.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
I said yes.
He didn’t argue. He just signed the paper and told me to clear out my desk. free𝑤ebnovel.com
I didn’t have much to clear. A few personal items. I threw them in a bag and walked out.
And just like that, I was free.
Truly free. No job. No schedule. No one to tell me where to be or what to do.
I could go anywhere. Do anything. For the first time in my life, I had no obligations, no debts, no chains holding me down.
I could even go on a journey. Travel the world. See the places I had only ever seen on screens.
The thought made me smile.
From that day onward, the white-haired girl came to my house from time to time.
She would knock on the door. I would open it. She would come inside and sit on the couch. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we didn’t. She seemed content just to be there.
I didn’t mind her company.
It was strange, at first. I had spent years alone. Years pushing people away. But she didn’t seem to care about my walls.
I still felt slightly uncomfortable. Old habits. Old fears. But I bore with it.
After all, she was the one who had saved me from a life of mediocrity. The least I could do was let her sit on my couch.
...
One morning, I went for a walk.
The sun was still low, casting long shadows across the pavement. The air was cold, sharp against my skin. Winter was settling in.
I started jogging.
I wasn’t a runner. Never had been. But something about the morning air, the empty streets, the quiet rhythm of my feet against the ground. It felt good.
I saw other people jogging too. A few older men. A woman walking her dog. A couple holding hands.
Then I heard it. A scream.
I paused my steps.
My first instinct was to keep moving. It wasn’t my problem. It had nothing to do with me. I didn’t know the person who screamed. I didn’t owe them anything.
But I gritted my teeth.
’Damn it.’
I turned and ran toward the sound.
An old man lay on the road.
His scooter was damaged, twisted, and lying on its side a few feet away. He was clutching his knee, his face pale, his breathing ragged.
I looked at the wound. It was bad. The kind of bad that needed immediate attention.
I pulled out my phone and called for an ambulance. The operator asked for details. I gave them. Then I knelt beside the old man.
I removed my shirt. Fortunately, it was winter, and I was wearing a t-shirt underneath. I pressed the fabric against his knee to stop the bleeding.
The old man groaned. I told him to hold still. That help was coming.
He looked at me with eyes that were grateful and scared.
I didn’t say anything else.
The ambulance arrived. Paramedics swarmed the old man, checking his vitals, securing his wound, and loading him onto a stretcher.
I followed them into the ambulance, not because I wanted to. But because I couldn’t seem to walk away.
At the hospital, they rushed him into the emergency room.
Then a nurse approached me.
"We need payment for the treatment," she said.
I blinked. "Payment?"
"The patient’s family hasn’t been contacted yet. His phone is locked. He’s in critical condition. We need someone to cover the initial costs."
I stared at her.
I didn’t know this old man. I had never seen him before in my life. I had already done enough. I stopped the bleeding. I called the ambulance. I brought him here.
What more did they want from me?
I took a deep breath and muttered under my breath.
"Idiot."
I turned around. I walked to the receptionist. I pulled out my card and paid the bill.
Then I left the hospital without looking back.
...
The next day, the white-haired girl came to my house again.
I opened the door, expecting her usual good morning greeting and her soft smile.
But instead, she said,
"Hey, I didn’t know my neighbor was a hero."
I blinked.
"What are you talking about?"
She didn’t answer. She just walked past me into the living room, picked up the remote, and turned on the TV.
The local city news channel flickered to life. ƒreewebɳovel.com
And my face stared back at me.
There I was. On the screen. A photo of me at the hospital.
The anchor’s voice filled the room.
"...the unnamed Good Samaritan who saved an elderly man’s life yesterday. The man’s family is asking for help to find this hero, who paid for the treatment and disappeared without leaving his name."
I stared at the screen.
The old man’s family was on the news. His daughter was crying. His son was thanking me. They called me a hero.
’Hero.’
I almost laughed. Almost. But the irony was too heavy for that.
’Me?’
The same man who spent years hating heroes. The same man who called them hypocrites in shining armor.
The same man who had almost walked away from that old man because "it wasn’t my problem."
And now, they were calling me... a hero.
