Sixteen sighs softly to himself as he continues with today’s chore of feeding the younger boys. Every boy in the house knew exactly where to find food and how to prepare the most of what they could get their hands on, but each day two boys were assigned the task of cooking. Usually one older boy (over 15 at least) would have to help a younger boy (usually around 10) make enough food for all twenty-eight boys, but today is a little different. Somehow he and Seventeen had been put on kitchen duty. Often times Sixteen was in or near the kitchen with his daily chore, so he had more experience with this sort of thing. Seventeen had shyly mumbled that he was no good at cooking when they had first checked the chore list at the same time earlier that morning. But to Sixteen it wasn’t a bother at all.

 

“Just keep me company, alright? I’ll teach you as much as I can but I don’t want to fall behind schedule…” he had responded reassuringly before leading the only other boy that had showed up in the same month as he had downstairs.

 

Quickly Sixteen had decided on a simple porridge for breakfast, which is a pretty common occurrence. Most boys that get assigned cooking duties liked to focus most of their attention on lunch and even more so on dinner. Everyone knew already who actually had talent in the kitchen. When a boy messed up majorly it meant a house full of growling stomachs for the remainder of the night. Sure some of the more desperate boys would choke down whatever burnt or misshapen slop was placed in their bowl, but a vast majority would take the punishment for not eating all of their food; twenty spanks right before bed.

 

Considering the first meal is mere porridge Sixteen trusts Seventeen for the older boys. Basically every boy at the age of fourteen or older would be receiving porridge made by Seventeen. All of them knew Seventeen’s history with cooking, so they would probably be a bit more lenient about it. The only danger they were truly in is giving a younger boy gross food because younger boys, especially recently added boys, would whine all day about how they couldn’t eat the food if it didn’t taste like food. That kind of behavior always bothered Sixteen more than anything. Cooking is always the most stressful chore to get stuck with. He had quickly seen to it that Eighteen through Twenty-Three at least behaved and didn’t whine about it so much. Of course, he had needed Fifteen’s help to completely achieve that feat, but the rest of the older boys had thanked him profusely for his effort. Sure that still left six boys that would fuss, especially the two-year-old Thirty. He obviously was never spanked for his displeasure. The two boys on cooking duty always received extra punishment if Thirty was unhappy with his food. And Sixteen is determined to avoid all of those punishments today.

 

“Alright Seventeen, let’s make something fairly simple for lunch,” he says in his characteristically cherry voice.

 

“Like what? Ramen? … We just had that yesterday, hyung,” the younger says in a very matter-of-fact kind of manner.

 

“No no… We have the necessary ingredients to make bread. Why don’t we make a couple loaves of that and serve fresh sandwiches? We haven’t had those since the beginning of spring,” he replies happily.

 

“B-Bread? We can really make that?”

 

“We’re allowed to make whatever we want as long as it’s edible and we clean up our mess as we go. I don’t think Sooman-shii can truly complain… I’ll make the dough though. Why don’t you see what kinds of things we have to put in the sandwiches?” he suggests quickly, knowing that even something as simple as bread was not so simple to make.

 

Seventeen quickly agreed before shuffling over to the fridge in his usual quiet manner. Sixteen takes a deep breath and pulls out all of his ingredients; flour, baking soda, salt, butter, and milk. He knew the recipe would be really simple and wouldn’t have time for a full yeast bread to rise. He’s already decided that small rolls would be a lot easier to make and easier for little hands to hold onto. There’d end up being at least two per boy, meaning he’d have to make roughly fifty-six individual rolls with as little mess as possible.

 

“Hey Seventeen, do you want to watch as I make the batter?” he asks softly.

 

The other shrugs and turns away from the fridge before taking a seat at the single rickety stool.

 

The entire process takes less than thirty minutes thankfully and comes with almost zero mess thus far. Sixteen quickly grabs as many trays as he can find and coats them with cooking spray. Seventeen’s curious eyes never drift away from what he’s doing for even a second. He starts coating the countertop in a light dusting of flour, earning a frightened look from Seventeen. With a gentle smile he assures the younger that this is absolutely necessary. The next thing he does nearly makes Seventeen gasp. He grabs the entire ball of dough out of the big mixing bowl and starts kneading it with his bare hands. With a bit of a struggle he manages to find a steady rhythm to rotate the large ball and press into it with his fingers. Soon enough he has a perfectly smooth mound of dough lying on the counter before him.

 

“Here comes the fun part,” he whispers to Seventeen quickly.

 

The other quickly washes his hands when he sees that the next step is to roll small handfuls of the dough into perfect balls. This time he joins Sixteen without even asking. The first couple he makes are a little lopsided, but Sixteen leaves them alone in an attempt to bolster his confidence. That was always one of Sixteen’s favorite things to do; make the younger boys believe in themselves more. He never voiced his opinions directly, but he had a quiet way about being almost motherly to all the boys that were younger than him, including Seventeen. In no time at all the two boys start to lose track of which balls had been formed by their own hands. Somehow they’d managed to make roughly sixty-six separate rolls. Most of those balls remained on the counter as the first four trays full went into the oven thanks to Sixteen’s steady hand.

 

“Where did you learn how to do all of this?” Seventeen suddenly asks.

 

“From Four and Ten hyungs… The kitchen is the only place I really get to talk to them though. Apparently Sooman learned about their cooking skills long before he had enough boys to take Consorts, so he keeps them on an almost-permanent rotation for cooking duty. The only days that break that are days when he requests each of his Consorts for individual sessions… Ten hyung has slipped up a few times and told me about some of the horrible things that happen in that room, but I swore I wouldn’t repeat them. … It would probably give you nightmares like mine if you even had a taste of the horrors of that room…” Sixteen replies slowly with his eyes downcast.

 

“Hyung… I heard that Sooman has started taking an interest in you too. D-Do you think he’ll add you as a Consort?” the younger questions timidly.

 

The other simply sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

 

“We’re getting to be that age where he sometimes changes his mind about the attractiveness of some of us… Ten hyung wasn’t originally going to be a Consort at all. He was added only about three years ago... Remember?”

 

Seventeen nods slowly. His eyes are full of a silent apology for bringing up the topic at all. Others viewed it as incredibly rude when Seventeen started asking questions about their status as a Consort mainly because the boy already had an almost guarantee that he wouldn’t be added; he is Chinese. Sure Fourteen is Chinese too, but Sooman always said he liked how wide Fourteen’s eyes are and how light his skin is. There was never any question that Fourteen would be a Consort, but Seventeen is different. His features are much less striking but certainly not unattractive and his eyes are much thinner than Fourteen’s. Sooman always preferred boys with bigger eyes and beautiful smiles. Seventeen had neither feature.

 

But Sixteen shows no sign of being offended or even upset as he takes the first few trays of finished rolls out of the oven with the only oven mitt in the house which is a tattered and worn oven mitt that has to be almost as old as Sooman. There are patches that no longer block heat along the top part of the mitt and Sixteen knows them perfectly from the many memories of the serious burns he’d gotten on his fingers in the past. His attention is entirely on the rolls and not so much on Seventeen anymore.

 

“Sorry… I really need to stop stressing over other people’s misfortune so much but I just… feel helpless, you know? There’s no way Sooman would ever take me for that job so all I can do is fulfill the stupid chores he has for us… I can’t protect anyone… by sacrificing my own body…” the younger finally says as a few silent tears roll down his cheeks.

 

Sixteen nods slowly. He knows that feeling better than anything. He feels it every time Sooman drags the Eighteen and Twenty-One away. He felt an inexplicable responsibility to all the boys before Twenty-Five, probably because they had each turned to him in their times of need. He had fallen into an almost motherly role in many of their minds even though he was hardly a year older than some of them. All the younger boys knew if they needed a shoulder to cry on or a pair of ears to listen that Sixteen would race through his chore just to be the one to provide that. He had a soft spot in his heart for many of the younger boys. And he was also never afraid to accept blame and punishment for them even when it was unnecessary.

 

The two finish making the rolls in near silence. The only sounds are the occasional bark of Sooman’s voice to summon a different Consort to his room and a few sets of footsteps scampering across the wooden floors as other boys bustle around the house to finish their chores. When it’s all said and done they decide to slice the rolls and set up each plate with the same amount of fillings; cheese, salted pork, and tomatoes fresh from the garden. That way each boy would get the chance to make his own food. Thirty is the only one with something slightly different on his plate. Sixteen makes two especially soft and slightly smaller rolls for him and fills them with what’s left of the strawberry jam they had received from a woman who lived nearby that often left small donations of food and clothing for them.

 

Overall the two manage to get by without a single word of complaint at the table. Some of the boys even give them little smiles and compliments on the food as they clear their plates. Even Thirty waddles over and hugs Sixteen’s leg lightly. The boy smiles softly and pats the soft head of the two-year-old before Three comes by and scoops up the toddler, carrying him off for his nap without a word. Both Four and Ten remark on how proud they are of their dongsaengs before silently starting to wash the dishes. They had already been called in to attend to Sooman’s needs earlier in the day, so they eventually agreed to help out with dinner in whatever way they can.

 

With the newly reinforced team of four, Sixteen felt like their chances of getting by without punishment had just gone through the roof. A huge smile lights up his face as he turns to Seventeen.

 

“So… what do you want to learn how to make for dinner?”