I Became the Owner of the Heavenly Flower Palace-Chapter 42: Am I the One Who Has to Repay This?

Jincheon remained in the banquet hall, disoriented.

The Commanding Officer had suddenly left.

He couldn’t help but worry—had he made some serious mistake?

Judging by the result, it didn’t seem too bad.

At the very least, the Commanding Officer had departed without showing any obvious displeasure.

But the problem was that he left without any clear reason or message.

“Then why bother inviting him at all?”

It was too extravagant and troublesome a gathering just to say “I look forward to working with you.”

If anything, Jincheon should’ve been the one trying to make a good impression.

For the sake of the people from the Heavenly Valley, and for whatever his future might hold.

He never expected to get anything out of a soldier with no money anyway.

“His attitude was kind of strange too.”

A high-ranking officer like the Commanding Officer had bowed with respect. Halfway through, he’d even changed his tone of speech.

Was the title of "Palace Master" of the Heavenly Flame Palace really worthy of such formality?

Jincheon couldn’t wrap his head around it.

But it seemed he was the only one who couldn’t.

Neung Gayeon, the North Wind Commander, sipped her tea with the same soft expression as always, and Ak Mujin, the East Wind Commander, let out a small scoff.

“Still, for a royal dog, he knows his place. Decent eye on him too.”

Jincheon had no idea what he meant, but decided not to bother asking.

After all, Ak Mujin had been muttering nonsense about “dogs of the court” from the start.

Jincheon didn’t know that Ak Mujin was skilled enough to read others' intentions from the slightest changes in expression.

Clack.

The door opened, and a young server entered.

“Here’s the second course. Huh? Three guests are gone?”

“Ah, two of them will be returning shortly.”

“So only one left for good? Either way, you know we can’t remove them from the bill, right? The food’s already cooking.”

Clack.

Ak Mujin set down his teacup and spoke.

“You dare intend to charge the Palace Master?”

The server smiled brightly.

“That was the former Palace Master’s order. But if it’s unwanted, just say so at any time.”

Before Ak Mujin could scowl and say more, Jincheon quickly cut in.

“If that’s the will of my predecessor, then so be it.”

At that, even Ak Mujin couldn’t argue further.

“Then today’s bill is on you, Palace Master...”

As the server placed the dish down and murmured to herself, Jincheon jolted.

“Huh? Me?”

The server flinched too—she hadn’t meant for him to hear.

“Ah... yes. That’s what I was told.”

“No, I mean...”

Jincheon had indeed told the Commanding Officer he would pay.

But that was a public statement, made in his capacity as the Palace Master of the Heavenly Flame Palace.

Technically speaking, it was part of his official duties—shouldn’t the palace cover it?

Jincheon glanced toward his maid, Ilyo.

She kept her eyes lowered, silent. Normally, she would’ve immediately asked if he had any commands.

“In a case like this... how did the previous Palace Master handle it?”

“He paid out of his own pocket,” Ilyo replied.

His own pocket?

Jincheon stared in disbelief, but Ilyo continued.

“To withdraw funds from the palace’s internal treasury, one must clearly state the use. He disliked doing that.”

Ah.

Now Jincheon understood.

The internal treasury was the money the Palace Master could use.

Personal usage was allowed, but since it was technically public funding, a detailed record and justification were required.

In other words, you’d have to disclose exactly where and how you spent it.

So the former Palace Master chose to use his own money instead.

“Why is it that only this kind of system actually works properly?”

The requirement to provide proof for use of the treasury was an organized, structured regulation.

Most closed-off groups operated chaotically, but apparently not the Heavenly Flame Palace.

“Still... he must’ve been wealthy to pay out of pocket like that.”

This wasn’t a matter of just a few coins. To cover such expenses on his own, he must’ve had a decent fortune.

“Shall I put it on your tab, then?” the server asked.

Jincheon looked up.

“Put it on my what?”

“On the tab. The ledger.”

Oh... credit...

Jincheon frowned as he processed the term.

“You guys allow tabs?”

“Yes,” the server nodded.

“The Palace Master... on credit?”

He couldn’t make sense of it.

But the server continued casually.

“It happened often. So feel free—”

“Wait.”

Jincheon interrupted, looking grave.

“So... I’m the one who has to repay all that?”

“Isn’t it you?”

No. Of course not.

Jincheon stared at her and said sincerely,

“Think about it. This involves a different agent of action. And transferring debt without the subject’s consent...”

“You said you would shoulder all karma and sin.”

The calm voice interrupted him.

Neung Gayeon, the North Wind Commander, gently traced her finger along her teacup.

“You already said so.”

Jincheon had no rebuttal.

At the same time, he felt incredibly wronged.

“That was just...!”

He said that to save people.

It was also meant to ruin the schemes of those pulling strings behind the scenes—and to show the strength of his resolve. It was a rhetorical flourish, a kind of literary gesture.

So how did that end up meaning he’d pay for someone else’s food on credit?

“Ngh.”

But Jincheon couldn’t say any of that aloud.

Words are strange things—once you’ve said something, going back on it creates intense psychological resistance.

And if he said “That’s not what I meant” now, who knew what kind of mess would unfold?

After all, Jincheon’s vow to bear the sins of his predecessor was the foundation of his command that no one die.

“...Very well.”

That was all he could say in the end.

“When is it due?”

“There’s no due date. Just whenever you can.”

“Whenever?”

“Yes.”

The server replied lightly, but Jincheon frowned again.

No credit limit, no repayment date—this was as good as giving it away for free from a business standpoint.

“Ilyo.”

“Yes.”

His maid responded at once.

Jincheon asked,

“To withdraw from the treasury, is it enough to specify the purpose? There’s no limit on timing or category of use?”

“That’s correct.”

“Even at taverns or courtesan houses?”

“If the Palace Master permits, it is allowed.”

Just as expected.

They claimed to draw a line between public and private matters—but only on the surface.

Jincheon turned to the server and asked,

“Do you have a ledger? A credit book with detailed records.”

“Yes, we do.”

Just as he thought.

Wherever credit is involved, the ledger is meticulously maintained.

Especially in taverns—having proof on hand in case customers later deny the charges is standard practice.

“Good.”

Jincheon nodded.

The former Palace Master had chosen to use credit rather than disclose the details of his spending.

Understandable, in a way.

Who would enjoy being grilled about exactly what they did for fun at a tavern?

And if someone were to start digging through old records and picking them apart—of course anyone would hate that.

But Jincheon didn’t care.

Because it wasn’t his business.

“Ilyo.”

“At your command.”

“For everything the previous Palace Master spent, get the detailed records and have it processed through the palace treasury.”

“Understood.”

“Not just here. Any place in Jucheon—no, anywhere he left a tab. Don’t miss a single one...”

He would never accept debts he didn’t even rack up himself.

Especially not Jincheon, who could barely afford things as it was.

“Make sure every last coin is repaid. Every single one.”

He put extra emphasis on every, repeating it for good measure.

Ilyo bowed deeply.

“I will ensure all of it is handled.”

Only then did Jincheon feel at ease.

The thought of those tabs ending up under his name—even if they were just records with no limits or collection deadline—was something he absolutely refused.

Why should he be responsible for paying off someone else’s bill? Why should it be in his name?

Sure, he’d said he’d bear the sins and burdens of his predecessor—but that didn’t mean settling his bar tabs.

Hoo.

Relief washed over him.

He felt like he’d finally scored one against “that guy” who had thrown him into this whole mess.

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And what kind of menace tells a business owner “just pay me whenever” anyway?

He wasn’t saying this just because he was a beginner in street peddling—this was truly absurd.

“Yeah. That’s how it should be.”

He muttered to himself, his spirits lifted.

But then Neung Gayeon, the North Wind Commander, responded.

“It is truly just as you say.”

Jincheon turned to look at her without meaning to.

Her gentle smile met his eyes directly.

What is?

He had no idea what she meant.

His muttering about how it should be had been in reference to sorting out the credit issue.

Yet Neung Gayeon had replied as if to something far deeper, in a tone that was almost reverent.

And as if to confirm it, she continued in that soft voice,

“Your actions are truly proper.”

It wasn’t just her.

Ak Mujin, the East Wind Commander, now had a blazing look in his eyes, clearly fired up.

Boom!

He stomped the floor and declared, voice trembling with fervor,

“I, Ak Mujin, shall lead the charge in repaying this debt!”

Jincheon let out a dry laugh in his head.

There’d clearly been some kind of misunderstanding.

He had a pretty good guess what it was, too.

The word repay could also be used in the context of revenge—settling scores. They must’ve thought Jincheon was expressing his resolve to avenge some great wrong.

That wasn’t my intent at all.

But he didn’t feel the need to correct them.

“Thank you!”

The server bowed politely to Jincheon.

Then giggled cheerfully.

“The owner was really worried, actually—there was quite a lot of it. I’m so glad you came back!”

Her laugh warmed Jincheon’s heart.

Clack.

The door opened again, and Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong returned.

“The Commanding Officer has left,” said Seoran.

“I see. Good work.”

At Jincheon’s words, both Seoran and Eunryeong bowed respectfully.

The server dashed downstairs, and soon after, several more dishes were brought up in a line.

Braised pork belly, stir-fried pork and vegetables—just as the server had said, the food was surprisingly delicious.

Now that the Commanding Officer had left, Jincheon allowed himself to simply enjoy the meal with the people of the Heavenly Flame Palace.

“...Enjoying myself. That’s rare.”

In just a few days, he’d grown familiar with them. The realization that he had changed struck him anew.

But he couldn’t allow himself to grow too comfortable.

This wasn’t truly his place.

Not for sure, anyway.

He couldn’t help but leave room for that uncertainty.

How could he not be moved by their devotion? How could he not be tempted when they were offering him such a high seat?

Even if it wasn’t truly # Nоvеlight # his.

His thoughts churned with conflict.

Naturally, his hand slowed as he picked at the food, sinking quietly into contemplation.

“Shall we begin?”

Suddenly, he heard Ilyo’s voice.

Jincheon looked up.

The two Commanders, the Seven Luminaries, and both Gi Seoran and Po Eunryeong were all looking at him.

“Commander Neung.”

He addressed Neung Gayeon, the North Wind Commander.

“Is this place safe for conversation?”

It was a clear signal that he was about to speak of something important.

Neung Gayeon’s eyes shimmered, and a tension settled over the banquet hall.