I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 34: How Many Did You Say?

Ilyo the maid’s confident prediction came true.

Not the next day—before Jincheon even had the chance to lie down for the night, the three maids returned.

Hwayo, Suyo, and Mogyo brought with them something familiar: Jincheon’s own travel pack, worn and old, its color faded with time.

“Oh!”

Jincheon accepted the bag with a look of genuine delight.

A quick inspection showed that even the merchandise he had stuffed deep inside remained intact.

“Thank you.”

He spoke with honest gratitude toward Hwayo, Suyo, and Mogyo for their efforts.

Rustle.

“We are unworthy of your thanks.”

The three maids knelt on one knee and bowed their heads.

Seeing them bow after such a long journey made Jincheon feel even more apologetic.

“Rise.”

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

What eased his guilt slightly was the fact that they looked exactly the same as when they’d left.

Despite having gone all the way to Jucheon and back, neither their clothes nor their expressions showed a hint of disorder.

“You did well. Were there any difficulties?”

“Gi Cheonhwa, stationed in Jucheon, had already identified the tavern and secured the bag in advance. Preparations were already in place to send it back to the valley.”

Hwayo, the blonde-haired maid, explained, and Jincheon’s eyes widened.

That clearly meant Gi Cheonhwa referred to Gi Seoran.

Wait—didn’t we part ways just this morning? And already?

Just as Jincheon was marveling at that, Suyo—whose deep blue hair shimmered softly—spoke.

“We merely went and returned. It was nothing to trouble ourselves over.”

“No, it was still a great effort. Thank you.”

Jincheon repeated his thanks, recognizing the long distance they had traveled just for his belongings.

The three maids bowed once more.

While watching them with warmth, a lingering question tugged at Jincheon’s mind.

Did I ever mention the tavern to Lady Gi?

To his recollection, he hadn’t.

And yet she had already retrieved his bag. Her decisiveness was, frankly, incredible.

Well, whatever the reason...

The bag had been recovered, and that was enough.

Jincheon shook off the lingering questions.

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So now... all that’s left is to return?

In truth, the biggest problem still remained.

That man—the one he had entrusted the mission to—if something had truly happened to him, things would unravel fast.

No contact. No return. That wasn’t a good sign.

Well, then again... knowing that guy, he could be wasting time at a brothel in Hangzhou, and I wouldn’t be surprised...

Still, it didn’t seem likely. He hadn’t had money, and he looked injured.

Ugh. No way, right?

Jincheon shook his head to cast off the grim thoughts.

No way something really happened. No way. It can’t have.

Well, it’s not like it’s something I can control anyway.

It was beyond Jincheon’s hands now.

All he could do was hope things turned out okay.

Letting go of his lingering doubts, Jincheon laid down with a light heart.

After all, tomorrow, he might finally return to the Central Plains.

****

Jincheon opened his eyes.

Huh?

Something felt off. He realized it immediately.

He’d definitely fallen asleep on the bedding in the Heavenly Flame Palace, but now—he stood alone in an empty field.

Fog filled the landscape in every direction.

Ah.

He understood.

It was a dream.

The same nonsense dream as yesterday. The one with the dragon.

Ugh...

Even though it was a dream, he felt irritated.

Had he jinxed himself by wondering before bed, “What if I have that nightmare again?”

“I mean, I didn’t even think about it that seriously.”

His thoughts about returning to the Central Plains had been far more intense and serious.

He’d even spent more time thinking about the seven maids than usual... Not to mention the Sword Dance of the Oracle and the Three Divine Daughters—it had left a deep impression.

“So why this damn dream again?”

He grumbled, but the dream didn’t end. The scenery didn’t change.

Jincheon looked around with a face full of discontent.

“What now?”

Since it was a dream, he figured he might as well talk to himself freely.

But more than that, he couldn’t remember where he had gone in the previous dream.

And before memory could catch up, the thick fog blocked all sense of direction.

If only he didn’t take that path yesterday—he might have avoided the dragon.

“Should I just stay put?”

That might be better.

Jincheon stood still on purpose.

But the dream didn’t shift. The fog enclosing him didn’t move an inch.

“Tch.”

Even staying still was uncomfortable.

In the end, Jincheon started walking.

All the while, he tried to change the nightmare through sheer will.

“Think about something else. Something else, something else...”

He’d prefer if beautiful women showed up. Or maybe the Sword Dance again. Or better yet—if he just woke up.

Clinging to those thoughts, Jincheon trudged forward step by step.

But the fog refused to lift.

****

Gasp!

“Are you all right?”

Jincheon awoke with a sharp gasp, her calm voice brushing his ears at the same moment.

And he was startled.

Ugh.

An exquisite female face hovered right in front of his own.

Her black eyes sparkled more than usual—it was the maid, Ilyo.

Ah...

“Shall I fetch you some water?”

She asked quietly.

Her composed tone somehow had the effect of steadying Jincheon’s heart.

“Y-yes, please.”

Jincheon rose as he answered.

Tap, tap.

The seven maids moved like flowing water, opening the windows.

With the morning sunlight pouring into the audience hall, the emotions lingering from the dream slowly began to dissipate.

Wolyo and Hwayo approached cautiously and gently supported Jincheon, while Suyo and Mogyo undressed him from his sleepwear.

Jincheon instinctively stretched his arms outward and entrusted himself to their care.

Seriously, why...

He had dreamt that damned nonsense again—the one with the dragon.

He already knew, but even so, he hadn’t been able to avoid facing the dragon.

Damn it.

Jincheon clicked his tongue inwardly.

But at least he had confirmed something.

That chanting he’d heard in the dream had unmistakably been the Oracle’s Incantation.

What the hell is going on? Why do I keep having these dreams...? Am I weakened or something?

He tried to figure it out, ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) but came up with nothing.

While Jincheon sank into thought, Wolyo, her silver hair shining faintly, gently swept a warm, damp cloth over his face.

Beside her, the blonde-haired Hwayo used another warm cloth to wipe his bangs.

And then—inevitably—Jincheon's gaze landed on her chest, full like a mid-autumn moon.

But the moment he remembered Geumyo’s words from the night before—"Thirty-four times."—he immediately averted his eyes.

Ah.

And in doing so, he met Hwayo’s crimson gaze directly.

Jincheon shut his eyes at once.

Hwayo, who had frozen in surprise, exhaled in relief and resumed wiping his bangs without a word.

Flick.

Suyo and Mogyo draped a wide cloth over him, and all seven maids simultaneously turned their heads away.

Jincheon quickly changed into his undergarments.

Thankfully, they weren’t soaked in sweat like yesterday.

Rustle.

The soft inner garments wrapped smoothly around his body, and once the covering cloth was taken away, Toyo—with her ash-gray hair—scurried out carrying Jincheon’s discarded clothing.

Watching her go, Jincheon thought to himself:

Strangely enough, knowing they’ll burn it actually makes me feel better. It’s a waste, sure, but still.

Having someone else wash his undergarments was far more uncomfortable. Burning them felt less invasive.

Wasteful, maybe—but it wasn’t like the clothes were really his to begin with.

Besides, the clothes he had bought with his own money had already turned to ash and smoke. So he didn’t feel all that guilty.

Rustle.

The new clothes were soft and light, just like the day before.

He didn’t know how, but they fit him perfectly.

Slide.

Ilyo, her black hair glossy and immaculate, placed a small crown on Jincheon's head.

Until now she had merely supervised—this was the one task she carried out with her own hands.

Then, a crimson outer robe was draped over his shoulders.

It was the very same robe someone had handed him when he first entered this place—the one he had kept for himself.

“Would you like some tea?”

Ilyo asked quietly.

Jincheon considered asking for breakfast but simply nodded instead.

Clink.

As if prepared in advance, a teacup was placed before him, and with the gentle sound of water being poured, a faint fragrance filled the room.

Trickle.

Jincheon sat at the table and lifted the cup.

The aroma was exquisite.

The taste too—refined, harmonious—and even the lingering aftertaste left nothing to be desired.

But his thoughts remained entangled in the dream from the night before.

Why that dream again...?

He had never believed in geomancy or “earth energy” nonsense.

And if it was about stress, he’d been more stressed while studying as a Confucian scholar.

Is it travel fatigue building up and finally surfacing?

And why would that fatigue show up as a nightmare?

Specifically, a ridiculous dream with a dragon?

Click.

Jincheon set the teacup down and looked toward the seven maids.

The distinct and strikingly beautiful women sat quietly with their eyes lowered, awaiting his command.

A strange and unplaceable satisfaction stirred in him—and he smirked bitterly.

How should I put this... it’s uncomfortable, but comforting.

He was still unsettled. That hadn't changed. He simply wasn’t used to this.

But it was also undeniably comfortable—he didn’t need to lift a finger.

To be tended to with such care and devotion by women like these—it was almost too comfortable. It made him feel guilty.

Was he adapting too quickly?

Or had he already grown lazy?

Unable to answer either way, Jincheon simply savored the tea in silence.

“What of the matter of departing for the Central Plains?”

Ilyo responded quietly.

“All preparations have been completed.”

Jincheon was pleased.

But Ilyo’s report wasn’t finished.

“Including us, a total of seven hundred fifty-nine await only your command.”

What?

Jincheon’s mouth fell open.

Wondering if he’d misheard, he asked again:

“How many did you say?”

“We are seven.”

Ilyo replied calmly.

“No, I mean the total number...”

“Seven hundred fifty-nine. Including us.”

Jincheon was left speechless.

“With the Red Dragon, that makes precisely seven hundred sixty.”

Ilyo’s words drove the point home.

Jincheon's eyes trembled.

He hadn’t misheard.

They were saying seven hundred fifty-nine people would be traveling with him.

He had been looking forward to returning to the Central Plains today—and now this? This unexpected disaster?

For a moment, Jincheon just stood there, stunned.

“There’s no reason to send that many... no, what’s the justification for such a decision?”

He knew better than to ask “why.”

The answer would be some ceremonial nonsense about the Red Dragon, of course.

So instead, he asked a question that might yield a more specific answer.

“I heard the East Wind Commander volunteered to organize the deployment.”

Jincheon frowned.

East Wind Commander Ak Mujin.

The very man Jincheon had handed the Wrath to.

The one who had sworn: “I will willingly bear disgrace and become the shield of the Red Dragon.”

That man...

Now Jincheon understood.

Ak Mujin had likely decided to protect him by any means necessary—and had filled the ranks accordingly.

He had sworn to become Jincheon’s bastion, after all.

As Jincheon scowled, Ilyo spoke again.

“The North Wind Commander is waiting in the administrative hall to report to the Red Dragon.”

North Wind Commander. The elegant woman with the slightly old-fashioned speech—the one who had spoken in the great hall, who had been the first to receive a black cord from Jincheon.

“Where is the administrative hall?”

“I shall escort you.”

At Ilyo’s words, Jincheon rose immediately.

He regretted the untouched tea, but this wasn’t the time to worry about that.