I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 15: There Is No One

Gi Seoran’s eyes lit up.

At Jincheon’s question—“Is it safe?”—she answered with a gleam in her eyes, as if all her earlier tension had been a lie.

“For now, yes. But you must not lower your guard. The more you think of what lies ahead, the more careful you must be.”

Her use of “for now” was a little disappointing, but it was enough—for the moment.

“Alright. ...Let’s leave the future alone for now.”

The pressing issue wasn’t what came next.

Rustle.

Jincheon pulled the red orb from inside his robes.

Clatter.

Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong instantly set down their teacups and stood up.

Then both dropped to one knee and lowered their heads in respect.

“We kneel before the Red Dragon’s Wrath.”

“We kneel before the Red Dragon’s Wrath.”

Their voices were low but firm. There was no panic or confusion in their posture.

“Please, sit down.”

At Jincheon’s words, the two women hesitated for a moment.

But whose command was it, after all? Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong had no choice but to return to their seats.

Seeing the lingering tension in their eyes, Jincheon gave a faint smile.

Then he reached out and placed the red orb on the table.

Clink.

The orb rolled slowly across the tabletop.

Seeing the shock flood both women’s eyes, Jincheon quickly extended a finger to stop it.

Tap.

His index finger gently pressed down on the orb.

Jincheon looked at the two of them.

Relief was written plainly in their eyes.

Hmph.

He briefly considered teasing them further—but now wasn’t the time.

Wiping the smile from his face, Jincheon spoke seriously.

“What is this?”

“It is the Red Dragon’s Wrath,” Po Eunryeong replied.

Jincheon pressed on.

“Is that the name of this orb?”

Po Eunryeong looked puzzled, clearly not following his line of questioning. Gi Seoran stepped in to explain.

“Strictly speaking, it is called the Wrath. Because it symbolizes the Red Dragon’s blood and crimson scales, the orb is considered a supreme treasure belonging to the Red Dragon. Hence, it is referred to as the Red Dragon’s Wrath.”

“I see.”

Jincheon nudged the Wrath gently with his fingertip.

The two women’s gazes immediately returned to the orb, but Jincheon asked a new question.

“Then—who is the Red Dragon?”

This time, Po Eunryeong answered.

“The Red Dragon is the master of the Heavenly Flame Palace, ruler of the Heavenly Valley, and the rightful, legitimate heir to the Heaven-Piercing Ten Grounds.”

Jincheon’s brows drew together slightly.

“Okay, but who is that, exactly?”

Po Eunryeong looked visibly flustered.

“The Gungju?”

“So the Gungju is the Red Dragon.”

“Uh? Ah, yes.”

“Then who is the Gungju?”

“He’s the Red Dragon...”

She stared at him like he was asking why the sky was blue.

Jincheon turned to Gi Seoran instead.

“The Dragon Vessel is the Red Dragon,” she said.

Dragon Vessel.

It sounded like the same thing—but the meaning was clearly different.

After all, Gi Seoran had called him the Dragon Vessel more than once.

He remembered her words: Forgive my offense against the Dragon Vessel, right before she picked him up and carried him.

There was no room for misunderstanding.

In other words—the Red Dragon was Jincheon himself.

He’d already noticed them calling him that.

“Haa...”

Jincheon let out a loud sigh.

He ignored Po Eunryeong’s startled reaction and looked straight at Gi Seoran.

“Why am I the Red Dragon?”

This time, even Gi Seoran looked uncertain.

“Because the Dragon Vessel is the Gungju...”

“No—I mean, there must be a reason you concluded I’m the Red Dragon. What is it?”

She fell silent, her gaze drifting to the orb beneath Jincheon’s finger.

“Because you possess the Wrath.”

Jincheon closed his eyes.

His half-suspicion hardened into certainty.

What the hell...

This whole mess was one big misunderstanding.

He wasn’t the owner of this orb.

Just because a messenger carries the emperor’s decree doesn’t mean he is the emperor.

“I’m... I only came to deliver this orb.”

There was no response.

Jincheon continued.

“I’m not the owner of this thing. So I’m obviously not the Red Dragon. I was simply asked to bring this orb here.”

His words sped up.

The more he realized how absurd the misunderstanding was, the more frustrated he became.

“So if anyone responsible is willing to take this orb, I’ll leave. That was the whole point of coming here. And I already told you once, didn’t I?”

He turned to Gi Seoran, his voice resolute.

“I told you—once I handed over the orb, my part would be done!”

His tone rose—not because he had done anything wrong, but because he was being dragged into something unclear and beyond his control.

He had only agreed to deliver the item in exchange for a reward.

He’d suffered through a brutal journey, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° carried this priceless object safely across mountains and warzones—only to be met with a ridiculous misunderstanding.

Granted, no one had mistreated him.

In fact, the treatment he’d received was more fitting for an emperor than a messenger.

But it wasn’t his.

Which made it all the more uncomfortable, unsettling, terrifying—and infuriating.

He had no idea what kind of backlash or disappointment he might face when he said, “I’m not the Red Dragon you’re all waiting for.”

The two women said nothing.

How much time passed in that silence?

Eventually, Jincheon’s anger began to subside. He realized he’d raised his voice more than necessary.

Gi Seoran finally spoke, her voice quiet and calm.

“I dare not presume to comprehend the burden the Red Dragon bears in his heart...”

Jincheon waited for the rest.

Gi Seoran continued, her tone measured.

“But there is no one here who can accept the Wrath.”

Jincheon’s eyes widened.

“No one?”

Suddenly, he remembered what that woman—Bukpung—had said in the Grand Hall earlier.

“There is no one here.” He had thought she was referring only to the people present at the time.

“Yes. There is no one,” Gi Seoran said again.

Gi Seoran answered.

“Anyone who touches the Wrath will die. Not just the Heavenly Flame or the White Forest—none of the Twelve Generals, the Four Winds Commanders, or even the High Priestess herself could withstand the Wrath.”

Jincheon was stunned.

He’d already been told that touching it would be fatal.

That man had warned him, hadn’t he? That there was some kind of “poison” in it—and that outsiders who touched it would be instantly killed.

But people from here would die too?

“...It’s not just outsiders who die?”

“If I may put it plainly—aside from the Gungju himself, everyone in the world is an outsider.”

What?

Jincheon was at a loss for words.

“The only being who can safely touch a dragon’s Wrath is the dragon itself. No matter who it may be, touching it without being the dragon... will only ever end in death.”

Her explanation was strangely persuasive.

Jincheon muttered blankly.

“But he definitely said only outsiders would die...”

“‘He’—you mean the one who gave you the Wrath?”

Both Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong’s expressions darkened.

Po Eunryeong clenched her jaw, and Gi Seoran spoke with effort, as if the words weighed heavily.

“He was... that kind of person. He never lied. But he never told the whole truth either...”

Jincheon understood. Too well.

The man who had entrusted him with the red orb was exactly like that.

But what Gi Seoran said next made Jincheon’s eyes widen.

“He was... quite the charming man. That was the former one.”

Former?

“Charming” could be subjective. But the word “former” couldn’t be brushed aside.

Jincheon cleared his throat.

“Ahem.”

He spoke carefully to the two women, whose faces were now heavy with grief.

“‘Former’ is a term used for the deceased...”

It was like saying “the late father” or “the departed emperor.” It was only used for those who had already passed.

If he were still alive, the proper term would be previous Gungju—not former. Even if Jincheon wasn’t technically the “current,” he certainly wasn’t referring to a dead man—was he?

“Yes. I know.”

Jincheon frowned.

“Then why... Wait—!”

His face went pale as he asked, “He’s dead?”

Gi Seoran responded with a puzzled look.

“Presumably, yes?”

“How? I mean—when?”

“That... surely you would know, Red Dragon.”

Jincheon felt a chill run down his spine.

“Me?!”

Gi Seoran lowered her head as she answered.

“Surely, the Red Dragon would have been there at the former one’s final moment.”

“What are you talking about? Me?!”

Of course Jincheon questioned her. Him, witnessing someone’s final moments?

“Was I mistaken?” Gi Seoran asked gently.

“Yes, you were! I’ve never... been there when someone died...”

Not once had he witnessed anyone’s death. Never.

But then—one thought flickered across his mind.

“...Are you saying this because of the Wrath?”

Gi Seoran’s face filled with sorrow.

Po Eunryeong, seated beside her, clenched her jaw harder.

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“That is correct,” Gi Seoran said.

“The fact that the Red Dragon’s Wrath has been passed on means that the former one has passed away.”

Jincheon was speechless.

Gi Seoran went on, her voice calm and clear.

“Moreover, the fact that the former one died not within this valley, but in a far-off place, can only mean one thing: that there is a traitor within the Heavenly Valley. Otherwise, who under the heavens could harm the Dragon Vessel?”

No one under heaven could cause him harm—Jincheon found that hard to believe. But the idea of a traitor... that was believable.

Even that middle-aged man who had given him the Wrath had said something similar.

This wasn't the work of an enemy's blade, he had said.

“So all that urgency before... that’s why?”

“Yes. That is why,” Gi Seoran nodded.

“I knew it was a breach of protocol, but I had to get the Dragon Vessel to the Palace at all costs. I told no one, and received no help—except from one person.”

She had said she couldn’t trust anyone.

And the one person she had chosen to rely on—the only one she brought with her—was sitting quietly right beside her: Po Eunryeong.

Though Po Eunryeong gave no reaction, the faint shimmer in her eyes betrayed her emotions.

Well... yeah, that makes sense.

Looking back now, Jincheon finally understood Gi Seoran’s actions after she saw the red orb at the mansion.

To her, it must’ve been like this:

The emperor had been assassinated. The rightful heir had appeared out of nowhere, defenseless, carrying the imperial seal with no guards or protection.

That explained everything—from riding hard through the wilderness while watching for ambushes, to telling Po Eunryeong she couldn’t trust anyone.

Even making him walk through the crowded streets with the orb in hand—she had done that to create a wall of people against potential traitors.

From her position, as a loyal subject, it was all perfectly reasonable.

But that’s not the issue here!

The real problem—the heart of this entire situation—is the meaning behind the fact that the previous Gungju handed the Wrath over to Jincheon.

...Is that even real?

He couldn’t understand it.

He couldn’t accept it.

Receiving the Wrath meant inheriting the title of Gungju?

Even asking a complete stranger to deliver a priceless artifact seemed unbelievable. But to say he handed over the seat itself?

Who could possibly believe that?

Jincheon couldn’t hide his confusion.