I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 19: The Person I Must Meet

The Person I Must Meet

The words of that middle-aged man—the one who gave him the job, the one called Gungju—were probably true.

“Once you deliver it, it’s done.”

Sure. It’ll be done... if you can deliver it.

Now that Jincheon had arrived, he’d found there was no one left to receive it. So how could his job possibly be over?

That other line was the same:

“Even if you sell it for a great price, the reward you’ll get for delivering it to the Palace will be far greater.”

And yes, the reward was absolutely massive.

No amount of gold or silver could make someone the master of a palace like this. No treasure on earth could earn him the treatment he was getting right now.

Shhhk.

Jincheon looked at the two women seated in front of him.

When would someone like him ever get this kind of reverence from women like them? It wasn’t just conversation—he’d probably never even get the chance to meet them under normal circumstances.

And the maids? Their service, their beauty—it was absurd the more he thought about it. He couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.

Honestly, just tallying up the treatment he’d received so far... he was already way overpaid.

And that’s the problem.

That was exactly why it was so serious.

There’s a saying—too much is as bad as too little. When something overflows, it becomes poison, not profit.

If you try to swallow something beyond your means, your stomach just bursts.

And this? This wasn’t just “too much.” It was completely off the charts.

Tap. Tap.

Jincheon drummed his fingers lightly on the table.

Then looked steadily at Gi Seoran and asked,

“Is there any way to verify the legitimacy of the Red Dragon?”

The answer came without hesitation.

“You are the one who holds the Wrath.”

“No, I mean besides that.”

Jincheon clarified.

“Is there anyone—or any group—that can verify things like the Red Dragon’s legitimacy or qualifications? Some kind of authority?”

“The Red Dragon is the Red Dragon... because he is the Red Dragon.”

Gi Seoran said calmly.

“No one has the right to question His legitimacy.”

Jincheon exhaled sharply.

That was like saying “a person is a person because they’re a person.” Completely circular.

“Still, surely there must be—”

“No one.”

Gi Seoran cut him off firmly.

“No one can question the Red Dragon.”

This wasn’t going anywhere.

Jincheon felt a wave of frustration—but forced himself to take a step back.

Maybe he was asking the wrong question.

“Then... how is succession handled? When a new Red Dragon appears?”

“I’ve never seen it myself.”

Gi Seoran’s gaze drifted slightly toward Po Eunryeong.

Po Eunryeong spoke up.

“I haven’t seen it either—but I’ve heard how it happens.”

Her voice was calm, but different from the sleepy murmur he’d heard the night before.

“Before the previous predecessor passed, he transferred the Wrath by hand. The next Red Dragon received it the same way. And thus, the Red Dragon’s throne was passed on.”

Jincheon had already lived through that exact moment.

The old man had told him too—“You must pass it on and receive it with bare hands.”

And he had. He remembered clearly how the man had touched his hand for a long time before letting go.

Po Eunryeong asked,

“Isn’t that how you [N O V E L I G H T] received it?”

“...It is.”

Jincheon nodded without thinking.

And just for a moment, he saw a look of satisfaction pass across both women’s faces.

They didn’t say anything—but he could practically hear them thinking, “See? Told you so.”

It felt like losing an argument he never even started, and that irritated him for some reason.

“Then let me ask this... That thing—does it really kill people on contact?”

He was talking about the red orb. The Wrath.

He noticed a flicker of tension in both women’s eyes—but it was too late. The words were already out.

“...If the Red Dragon wishes to confirm it himself,”

Gi Seoran said, her face hard.

“I will gladly comply.”

“M-Me too.”

Po Eunryeong added quickly.

But her voice and eyes were trembling slightly.

Jincheon sighed.

“You’re saying it will kill you?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

Gi Seoran’s steady reply made Jincheon concede defeat—plain and simple.

“Then I can’t do it. Even if it didn’t kill you, there’s no way I’m using either of you to test it.”

Po Eunryeong let out a soft breath of relief.

Gi Seoran’s face didn’t change—but Po Eunryeong’s eyes sparkled even more than before, as if she were getting some strange idea.

Jincheon decided to change the subject.

“That man from yesterday... he’s still alive, right?”

The memory of the previous night popped up in his mind.

“You mean the Lord of the East Wind?”

Jincheon nodded.

He remembered now—they’d called him Dongpung in the grand hall.

The man who mocked Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong as “just the Heavenly Flame” and then got dragged out after Jincheon revealed the Wrath. The man who, unintentionally, had effectively received a death sentence from Jincheon himself.

“You did not give your approval. So his execution has not been carried out.”

Jincheon quietly let out a sigh of relief.

If there was some strange law in this place—like *“criminals must not live to see the next sunrise”—*then the man might already be dead.

Good. I haven’t gone too far yet.

These people seemed absolutely convinced that Jincheon was the Red Dragon. That he was the Palace Master.

But Jincheon still felt like this was all a giant mistake.

Which meant he couldn’t make any irreversible decisions.

Because he couldn’t take responsibility for them.

“Let’s go.”

“To where the Lord of the East Wind is being held?”

“Yes.”

Gi Seoran bowed her head.

“If you command it, the Court’s Seven Attendants will escort you.”

“The Court’s... Seven Attendants?”

“...The maids.”

Jincheon nodded.

So that was what they were called—the seven maids who had attended to him since yesterday.

“I see. But... you’re not coming with me?”

He asked.

Gi Seoran answered.

“The Palace’s regulations are strict. We each have our own duties. With your permission, we would like to return to them.”

Jincheon paused.

Truth be told, he’d feel more comfortable with Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong by his side.

But they’d stayed up all night. And their obligations weren’t something he could ignore.

“...Understood. One more thing, though.”

He looked at Gi Seoran as she bowed again.

“If the Red Dragon absolutely had to meet someone—who would that be?”

Gi Seoran fell silent.

Po Eunryeong glanced at her curiously.

Then, at last, Gi Seoran answered.

“...The Oracle.”

“The Oracle?”

It was an unfamiliar title—but one Jincheon remembered hearing mentioned during yesterday’s conversations.

“Why?”

“The Commander of the Four Winds and the Twelve Cloud Generals are the central military forces that serve the Red Dragon and protect the Heavenly Flame Palace. However, the one who upholds the Heavenly Valley alongside the Red Dragon... is the Oracle alone. Therefore, the person the Red Dragon must meet first is not the Four Winds or the Twelve Generals... but rather, the Oracle.”

The Commander of the Four Winds and the Twelve Cloud Generals—those were probably the sixteen people Jincheon saw in the grand hall yesterday.

Which meant the Oracle was someone he hadn’t even met yet.

The Oracle...

The title itself clearly carried religious significance.

In closed-off societies, it was common for religion to take the place of politics.

And at last, Jincheon felt like he’d arrived at the answer he’d been looking for.

So it’s her.

If anyone could tell him whether he truly was the Red Dragon—or if he’d legitimately inherited the throne of Palace Master from that old man—it would be her.

Or perhaps she’d tell him that this was all a giant mistake. That he’d been duped by a strange and eccentric middle-aged man playing some elaborate prank.

“I understand. Summon the maid.”

As Gi Seoran stood, Jincheon raised his teacup once more.

The fragrance was still there, but the tea had gone cold. He took a small sip and found himself thinking:

I feel like I’ve forgotten something... What was it?

He’d had the same feeling before going to sleep. As if there were something important, just on the edge of his mind.

The seven maids entered, and Jincheon rose from his seat.

It was time to move.

Jincheon left his bedchamber.

Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong walked directly behind him, and the seven maids followed in an orderly line.

Step, step.

As they walked down the wide corridor, Jincheon found himself thinking,

...This is a bit much.

He didn’t mind Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong accompanying him. But having all the maids following him too? That was definitely a new experience.

He walked carefully, adjusting his pace to the rhythm of the lead maid’s movements—just like he had yesterday.

Tap.

The black-haired maid walking closest to him came to a halt.

When Jincheon turned, both Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong dropped to one knee in unison and bowed their heads.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes, we are. And... if I may say something, though it may be bold of me.”

Jincheon gave a crooked smile at Gi Seoran’s words.

She always said it was difficult to speak—but never failed to say what needed saying. And most of the time, her advice was genuinely helpful.

“Go ahead.”

“You don’t need to use honorifics with us.”

Jincheon paused.

She’d phrased it politely as “unnecessary,” but it was clearly a request for him to stop.

“I’ve only been observing the most basic courtesy...”

Gi Seoran responded again, cutting off his uncertainty.

“It is difficult for us to bear.”

Jincheon fell into thought for a moment.

He knew full well that when those in power acted thoughtlessly, those beneath them often paid the price.

Letting out a soft sigh, he nodded.

Fine. It’s not like I’ve got anything left to protect...

Foll𝑜w current novels on fɾēewebnσveℓ.com.

He’d already accepted every bit of this excessive treatment. Changing how he spoke now wouldn’t undo any of it.

Besides, that old man had told him—

“Once you get there, act like you own the place. Be obnoxious, if you can.”

And more importantly, Jincheon didn’t know this place.

Doing as he was told was probably the safest option.

In truth, he wasn’t used to dropping honorifics. It was just a habit. But hadn’t he tried speaking casually the first time, anyway?

“So be it.”

It wasn’t exactly informal—more like an old-fashioned tone that didn’t elevate or humble anyone. But that was the closest Jincheon could comfortably manage.

“I’m grateful. Then we’ll take our leave.”

Gi Seoran bowed deeply in thanks.

“You’ve done well. Both of you.”

“It was merely our duty.”

Gi Seoran’s voice remained serious, but a faint smile curled at the corners of Po Eunryeong’s lips as she bowed.

And with that, the two of them left the palace.

****

Jincheon walked on, now with only the seven maids accompanying him.

They moved so silently that the only footsteps echoing through the long corridor were his.

Step.

Jincheon stopped before a large pavilion.

“This the place?”

“Yes.”

The black-haired maid who’d been walking half a step behind him answered quietly.

“He should have been confined to the palace prison, outside the main court... but since you stayed the execution, he’s been kept here.”

This was where Dongpung—the man dragged out of the hall yesterday—was being held.

Jincheon asked the maid,

“...So there are four Commanders of the Four Winds total? And they’re the highest-ranking officials here?”

Since he’d already shifted his tone, he figured he might as well speak plainly to the maids too.

The maid bowed respectfully.

“There are currently four Commanders.”

She continued, her voice gentle and composed.

“However, we are not in a position to speak of ranks or authority. If the Red Dragon declares it so, then it must be as you say.”

Jincheon glanced sideways at her.

The black-haired maid stood calmly, her long glossy hair flowing behind her. Her eyes were lowered, her expression unreadable.

“If the Red Dragon declares it so, then it must be as you say...”

Jincheon looked at her a bit more closely, his eyes narrowing.

Was that a no? Or was she implying I’m asking questions I shouldn’t be?

Her words sounded humble—self-effacing, even—but depending on how you heard them, they almost sounded like a subtle rebuke: “Think what you want.”

Wasn’t that exactly the kind of literary double-speak the scholars back in his old circle specialized in?

The kind of high-level sarcasm that used rhetorical questions, analogies, or historical allusions to deliver cutting jabs?

...No way, right?

Jincheon stared at the black-haired maid.

But her serene expression didn’t change in the slightest.

Ahem.

Eventually, Jincheon turned away.

Shhhk.

At his subtle nod, the maids opened the doors to the pavilion.

And inside—shrouded in darkness—the chamber revealed itself before Jincheon’s eyes.