I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 48: I Will Not Forgive It

A cold silence fell over the banquet hall.

Inspector-General Wang Cheongmin couldn’t hide his shock.

That someone would dare to tell him—the highest-ranking provincial official in Gamsuk—to “shut up”—such an unthinkable insult had never even crossed his mind.

But Jincheon didn’t bother hiding his fury.

“I don’t care what you say to me.”

He knew he had crossed a line.

But he couldn’t stop.

Even he hadn’t expected to be this angry.

“But I will not tolerate insults... toward these people.”

It was the most natural thing in the world.

These women had accepted Jincheon when he was nothing.

They had trusted him unconditionally as a stranger, protected him with their lives, and treated him with deep care.

Jincheon had seen with his own eyes—had experienced firsthand—just how devoted they were to him.

How could he not be moved?

Even a beast raised in one’s home would be loved; how could he not feel affection for these graceful, beautiful women?

True, if he were being technical, it all began because of the divine orb he brought with him.

Even so, their kindness to him was real.

To call them cheap harlots—how could he possibly let that slide?

His anger was wholly justified.

He had only swapped the term my people for the slightly more modest these people—a small nod to humility.

But whatever Jincheon felt, Wang Cheongmin’s expression had twisted in rage.

“You—you bastard, how dare you...!”

Wang Cheongmin ground his teeth.

He was a man born to a powerful noble family, who had only ever walked a flower-strewn path.

He was also the Inspector-General of Gamsuk, appointed by the Emperor himself—untouchable by most.

For a mere boy like Jincheon to insult him like this—it was beyond tolerable.

Then it happened.

Crash!

“Master!”

Prefectural Commissioner Jeong Deokun shot to his feet.

Without a second thought for his robes or dignity, he dropped to his knees and prostrated himself before Jincheon.

“Khh—!”

Jang Rin gasped involuntarily, startled by the sudden gesture.

Even the usually silent Provincial Commander Im Hochung couldn’t hide his shock.

The Prefectural Commissioner of Gamsuk—one of the top-ranking officials—was groveling in full prostration?

Would even the Emperor himself receive such a gesture?

But Jeong Deokun didn’t care.

“This is entirely the fault of I, Jeong.”

“What are you doing, Prefectural Commissioner!”

Wang Cheongmin exploded in fury.

“Get up this instant! How can an imperial official—!”

“Silence!”

Jeong Deokun’s sharp voice rang out.

He turned toward Wang Cheongmin with eyes like frost and said coldly:

“This gathering was meant to bring comfort to the Master. What kind of disgrace and rudeness have you brought into this place? Bringing you here was my mistake. You have no place in this room. Leave. Immediately.”

His gaze was vicious.

It was hard to believe this was the same warm and affable Jeong Deokun from moments ago.

Flustered, Wang Cheongmin instinctively turned toward Provincial Commander Im Hochung.

But Im Hochung wasn’t on his side either.

Wearing a stern expression, the old commander kept his mouth shut—and wouldn’t even meet his gaze.

Crash.

Wang Cheongmin stood up with a violent shove of his chair.

“I won’t forget this!”

He shouted at Jincheon—then turned to Jeong Deokun and Im Hochung as well.

“You two had best prepare yourselves! As Inspector-General, I will see to it that this disgrace is handled with the utmost severity!”

An imperial official, one of the highest in the province, had prostrated himself to someone other than the Emperor.

That could be branded treason.

And Im Hochung, who stood by and did nothing, was just as guilty.

Wang Cheongmin fully intended to impeach both of them.

Hmph!

With a snort—whether of finality or warning—he turned sharply on his heel.

He yanked the doors open and stormed out of the banquet hall.

Bang.

The door slammed shut with a loud thud, but no one said a word.

The round-bellied Jeong Deokun remained prostrated before Jincheon.

Silence lingered.

Jincheon finally spoke.

“You may rise now.”

“The fault I bear is too great—I cannot.”

Jeong Deokun’s calm voice earned a sigh from Jincheon.

“What fault, Prefectural Commissioner? If anything, I—”

“My first mistake was bringing in the wrong man. My second, was inserting myself where I shouldn’t have.”

Jincheon gave a bitter smile.

“That’s not your fault.”

He continued in a composed tone.

“No one can see into a man’s heart. You’ve acknowledged your error and corrected it—how could that still be wrong? Refusing to stand by and stepping in to mediate conflict is precisely what a true civil servant should do. So how could I possibly hold you accountable?”

Most officials avoid conflict.

The only exception is when there’s something in it for them—or their position is in jeopardy.

But Prefectural Commissioner Jeong had stepped forward on his own, actively mediating the dispute between Jincheon and the Inspector-General.

He had done so despite the humiliation of throwing himself into a full prostration.

That alone had cooled Jincheon’s fury.

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In fact, seeing the portly commissioner curled up in that pose almost made him laugh.

“So please, stand. Don’t embarrass me any further.”

“W-well then...”

Jeong Deokun rose awkwardly.

Clearly not accustomed to physical activity, he wobbled unsteadily as he stood.

Jang Rin quickly stepped in to support him.

After he returned to his seat and the tension subsided, Jincheon turned to him and asked:

“...Will you be alright?”

“Pardon?”

At Jeong Deokun’s puzzled reply, Jincheon gave a small glance toward the door.

Referring, of course, to the parting words of the Inspector-General.

Wang Cheongmin had declared he would deal with this matter severely.

Even Jincheon had to admit—it was a serious issue.

But Jeong Deokun gave a soft smile.

“This is our internal matter. You needn’t concern yourself, Master.”

“Is that so?”

“Indeed.”

Though he smiled as he spoke, there was a firmness in Jeong Deokun’s gaze.

Jincheon gave a small nod.

If the Prefectural Commissioner said so, then so be it.

Jincheon, after all, had once aspired to be a civil servant, but that didn’t mean he had a detailed grasp of how the bureaucratic machine worked.

Still, something about that phrasing—our internal matter—didn’t sit quite right. But he let it go.

Slick.

As Jincheon raised his cup, he casually turned his head—and his eyes met Gi Seoran’s.

And he noticed a glimmer around her eyes.

Huh?

It wasn’t just that.

Her always-composed gaze looked a little moist.

Jincheon glanced around.

It wasn’t just Gi Seoran.

Po Eunryeong too—and all seven of the palace maidens, including Ilyo—were looking at him.

Their eyes shimmered.

Even North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon, seated nearby, was watching him—her gaze tender and deep.

Ahem.

Jincheon cleared his throat and picked up his teacup, pretending not to notice.

Calling them my people—even though he quickly changed it to these people—might have been a bit much.

But still, protecting them... wasn’t that the natural thing to do?

Even if his position was still technically "undecided" and "temporary," Jincheon was—at least for now—the Palace Master of the Heavenly Flame Palace.

Then, it happened.

“May I be excused for a moment?”

The deep voice belonged to East Wind Commander Ak Mujin.

When Jincheon glanced at him in puzzlement, Ak Mujin smiled and added:

“I have to pee.”

Jincheon frowned slightly.

Despite his burly, rugged frame, Ak Mujin was still a handsome man in his middle years.

But hearing him talk about peeing felt absurdly out of place.

“There’s no need to ask my permission for something like that. Go ahead.”

“Thank you.”

Ak Mujin stood and exaggeratedly brought both hands together in a formal bow, then strode out with heavy steps.

“...Too late,”

came a soft murmur beside him.

Jincheon turned, curious, and met North Wind Commander Neung Gayeon’s eyes—just as she gave him a faint smile.

With a refined and elegant beauty that close, the impact was no joke. Jincheon quickly looked away.

Ahem.

He cleared his throat.

Whatever he'd meant to ask slipped completely from his mind.

“Master.”

Jincheon turned at the gentle voice.

The woman—Jang Rin—had quietly risen to her feet.

“I lack talent, but I would like to offer «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» you a song. Would that be all right?”

Ah.

Jincheon suddenly remembered that she had wanted to perform earlier.

From the looks of it, the Seven Luminaries—his seven palace maidens—were all sparkling with anticipation.

“I’d be glad to hear it.”

At his reply, Jang Rin bowed in gratitude.

In the banquet hall, as if prepared in advance, an old, elegant seven-string zither lay waiting.

Jang Rin took her seat and began to play.

Daranng...

The unique timbre of the instrument slowly filled the hall, and as Jincheon listened to the music flow, he thought:

“...He said he wouldn’t forget this, didn’t he?”

The Inspector-General of Gamsuk had openly vowed retaliation.

In the past, such a thing would’ve left him an anxious wreck—sleepless, uneasy.

But Jincheon was calm.

“He probably doesn’t even know who I am.”

The world was vast, and people were many.

At most, the Inspector-General might know his family name. But what could he possibly do with that?

It seemed clear the man had no understanding of the Heavenly Flame Palace, either. And the Prefectural Commissioner and Provincial Commander weren’t going to cooperate with him.

“And who knows if I’ll ever come back to Gamsuk.”

Even if he was technically the Palace Master, Jincheon still considered it an “undecided” role.

If that old man—the previous Palace Master—were to suddenly return, Jincheon wouldn’t even be the temporary one anymore.

Not even someone as powerful as the Inspector-General would be able to track him down.

“If it comes to that, I’d best avoid Nanzhou altogether.”

That was Jincheon's conclusion.

Dararang...

As the soft music of the zither echoed through the banquet hall, Jincheon let go—slowly—of the storm that had just passed.

But the same could not be said for Inspector-General Wang Cheongmin.

****

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

“Those bastards! Those damned, lowborn mongrels!”

Wang Cheongmin was absolutely livid.

Even inside the carriage taking him home, he couldn’t contain his rage.

His subordinates and escorts could hear him, of course, but Wang Cheongmin had never cared about appearances before, and he wasn’t going to start now.

“How dare they humiliate me like that! Who the hell do they think they are?!”

The more he thought about it, the more furious he became.

He should have spoken up. He should have crushed them with a scathing retort on the spot—but thanks to the Prefectural Commissioner and the Provincial Commander, he’d left without a fight.

Now, far too late, all the perfect lines he could’ve said began bubbling up in his head, tormenting him further.

Damn it.

It wasn’t like he’d said anything wrong.

Calling them cheap harlots? It was nothing but the truth, as far as he was concerned.

Jincheon had the nerve to bring those women into a formal reception with Gamsuk’s highest officials—women flaunting seductive beauty, garish hair, and breasts they didn’t even bother to hide.

And then had the gall to say don’t insult these people?

The nerve.

Wang Cheongmin could not calm himself.

Whether those women had actually seduced anyone—or even shown any indecency—no longer mattered to him.

Grit.

He clenched his teeth hard enough to ache.