My name is Eunli. I turned twelve this past year. And I am one of The Chosen.

At any time, the boarding house is full of us, ranging in age from 4 years old- that would be Hayi, our youngest- to 14 - Seunghyun and Yoona were the current eldest. Of course, we had had younger. Zelo and was the youngest I remembered, having joined us at the age of 3, though I’m told I was just as young when I entered the house. And sometimes, we stay until we are only 13. But recently they had waited until the eldest were 14 or even 15 to- but that didn't matter. At the moment, we ranged in age from 4 to 14. There are no adults in the house. Just us. The Chosen.

The boarding house was the only world most of us knew. Some would talk about the outside world when they first showed up: other people they had known, true brothers and sister- not the ones we grew to love and cherish in the house- and even such bizarre things as helping their families harvest plants or make clothes. One girl, she went by the name of Zinger, joined the house when she was very old, almost 7. Seughyun told me she was the oldest to ever join them, and that made her a fountain of knowledge. Us younger ones would bunch around her each night as she told us stories she had been told by her mother. Fairy tales, she called them. We knew they were stories, we weren’t stupid, but we enjoyed them all the same.

She told us the reason she hadn’t been put into the house sooner was because her mother had run away as soon as she had been given the news. That was another story we loved to hear. The story of a mother who loved her child more than anything and choose to try and give it a chance instead of giving up like our parents had. Oh, to have a real mother. But it was when I was having thoughts like that that I would glance around and smile. I may not have had a real mother, but I had Bommie, Dara, Hyosung, Seunghyun, Teddy… So many older ones looking out and caring for me and the youngers. When I would remember Dara patching my skinned knee or Bom holding me while I cried at night, I decided I wasn’t missing out from much.

Of course, that was before. Before they had all been taken away. Before I was one of the oldest ones left. Before I was chosen as the one to look after the younger ones, to patch their hurts and hold them when they cried. And now I understood. I understood the sad smiles they had always sent our way, the silent tears they would sometimes shed with me, the extra hugs they gave out at random times after they started their 13th year. And right at that moment I was looking at the children around me, giving them that same sad smile.

It was dinner time, and everyone over the age of 6 was either helping prepare the meal, getting the dining area ready, or practicing. All of us rotated shifts, one day prepping, another setting things, and the next practicing, except Youngbae, Yongguk, and myself. True, Seunghyun was older than Youngbae and Yongguk and Chaerin was older than me, but the three of us- we just interacted with the children better. And as the three put in charge of the younger ones, I would watch the children every other day while the boys trained, then the boys would take turns watching while I trained. I truly wished I could watch the children every day, but after bringing that up the first time and having Yongguk followed by Jiyong nearly bite my head off about “making sure I’m able to defend myself when the time comes”, I had accepted the arrangement.

We had just sat down, meaning we had around 30 minutes till dinner would, most likely, be ready. The same dinner we had almost every night. The same rehydrated vegetables, mashed gunk that was supposed to be fruit, and a cooked brick that was supposed to provide us with exactly the right about of protein for our growing bodies. After 6 years it got to the point that I hated and dreaded meal times. Most of the younger ones in front of me had yet to reach that point. Though from what I had been told they looked forward to story time more than dinner time. Which is why all eyes were currently on me as I tried to think of what story to tell them that day. At least until I noticed that someone else had another idea concerning story time.

“Eunli?” 5 year old Zelo, who had already been with us two years, raised his hand.

“Yes Junhong?”

He made a face and the others laughed as he corrected me. “It's not Junhong anymore, noona. It’s Zelo now!”

I tried not to laugh at his ‘angry’ face and managed to just smile instead. “Sorry. Yes, Zelo?”

“I was wondering-“ I saw the way he looked at the others before he looked down at his lap and I had a good idea where he was going. You see, even though he had been with us for two years, we had done our best to shield him up until now. Since we had Hayi, we- well, more like I- could no longer shield him, protect him from the truth, from what was out there. There were still many things he didn’t know, many stories he had yet to hear.

Why? Outside in the real world, most had learned that answering questions was punishable. So unless it was extremely important, the younger ones had a tendency to hold their questions in with the hopes that someone else would ask instead. The older ones? We had all gotten over that a long time ago, but it usually took the younger ones a little time.

“You can as your question, Zelo. You know that asking questions is allowed in here.”

He nodded and took a deep breath before he continued. “Why are we here?”

I felt my heart drop as his question confirmed my fears. You could tell which of the children knew the story by who was looking at me curiously and who was staring into their lap or at the wall or floor, anywhere but at me. They had heard the story. They knew why we were here.  And while it was a story everyone had to hear, even I hated hearing it twice. And I? I was now the one who had to retell the tale. I glanced from Zelo to Hayi while I did the calculations. The little girl had only been with us for a week, meaning we were unlikely to receive anyone new for a few months. In fact, Hayi was currently sitting in Minzy's lap, one of the old ratting bears clutched in her arms as though it were a life preserver and she was afraid of drowning at any minute. I had that urge to protect her, the same one I had before- hell, that I still had- for Zelo. But with a sigh I let it go. I could protect her other ways, from other stories. But this one, the one of our origin, the origin of The Chosen? It really was better if she heard is sooner rather than later.