In the heart of Seoul's bustling city stood a large building tucked between others.
This building—a combat facility—housed multiple training rooms, including sparring rooms, weapons halls, and technique chambers.
All equipped with air vents and reinforced walls.
Today, one of its rooms glinted under the scent of soap, the floor freshly scrubbed. Im Yuin, a 19-year-old boy, gripped a mop, moving it back and forth with seasoned skill.
At his feet sat a bucket of water that had turned mildly murky.
His hands, tightly wrapped around the mop handle were calloused, marked by tears and scars that spoke of the many jobs he'd endured.
Here, in a facility dedicated to the Chosen: those who bear on their shoulders the fate to protect humanity, revered as the prophesied saviors of their world; to train and perfect every motion till it became instincts—Im Yuin was nothing more than a cleaner.
One among plenty who cleaned after the esteemed saviors, the Chosen.
Yuin had always cursed his fate. While others were born with opportunity dangling from their necks, he had been born with responsibility that he carried for himself, and his siblings.
To him, being a Chosen was never a curse. It was a way out. But fate had never been about one's choices or wishes.
The platinum-spoon-born kids, after all, had the opportunity to be a Chosen, but not a scrub like him.
He believed if he had been one, then his life would've changed. Some might have seen it as a curse and a burden, but not him.
Still, life was no dispenser of justice, nor did it care to whom it handed lemons.
Now, it wasn't unheard of that power bred cruelty and made it easier. It awakened the natural instinct to look down upon those beneath you, one that only a few managed to restrain.
The Chosen, however, had no wish to suppress such impulse, nor any intention of quelling that desire.
If anything, they were drunk with pride for their title and derived pleasure from abusing the power it came with.
To every oppressor was a target.
In that facility, Im Yuin was their target. One they took pride in harassing day after day. One that filled their chalice of fun because he always kept silent….. always acted the obedient servant.
But it wasn't pride nor weakness that kept Yuin's head low, it was necessity. He never wanted to be a cleaner, at least not for these arrogant snobs.
But it was among the few jobs that paid the most money, at least for him, a functionally illiterate who didn't have the privilege for advanced education, hence he kept his head low even when he shouldn't.
Every insult, every push, every hit, he filed away, burying it deep beneath a calm he barely contained.
He often came close to losing that calm, but when the faces of his siblings flashed in his head, he somehow controlled it.
After all, every penny he earned kept them fed, kept a roof over their heads, kept them educated, clothed, and more.
As usual, Im Yuin was almost done with his work for the day. As he sloshed the mop back and forth, swabbing the water across the tiny space left, he sensed a presence looming at the entrance.
He turned, already knowing who it was: a Chosen. And that too, the most infamous among them; Bo Haekyun.
A college student driven mad with power for being a Chosen.
In his hands, a bundle of sweat-soaked towels hung limp.
Not again.. Im Yuin sighed, knowing too well what was about to come.
A sly grin tugged on Bo Haekyun's lips as he locked eyes with Im Yuin, then—
SPLAT!
He tossed the soaked towels across the freshly mopped floor, causing soggy splashes to spread like stains and undo Im Yuin's hard work.
"Still playing servant?" he sneered with mocking eyes.
"….."
With a proud smirk across his face as if praising his own behavior, he turned to leave, but paused, and glanced back over his shoulder with a strange, lingering look.
"Don't get any ideas. Even if you had been a Chosen, you'd still be beneath us," he remarked bitterly.
"Tch! Looking at me with those eyes!" He clicked as he walked off.
Im Yuin's fingers tightened around the mop.
Let's keep calm. Breathe. Let it go.
Huuu~ Fuuu~
He took deep breaths, like a monk, mastering self control and inner peace.
"Don't worry, I got this," a familiar voice interrupted his meditation.
It was Garam, a coworker and a friend of his, walking in with two buckets and a mop.
He bustled around, hastily picking up the towels and stuffing them into one of the buckets. Then he proceeded to start cleaning the soiled areas.
Garam was a close friend of Im Yuin's; although much older, he interacted amicably with him.
In the den of the Chosen where they were nothing but pieces of garbage to Im Yuin, Garam was the sole gem, an embodiment of unbridled kindness according to Im Yuin.
He was always stepping forward whenever he could, offering kindness without expecting anything in return.
Yuin had grown so used to it, he couldn't bring himself to refuse.
"You have to go, right? Don't worry, I got this," Garam smiled with the same fatherly gesture he'd always used.
He was a father, and a husband, after all. Only that life was never fair. Even to the kindest and purest souls, it came harsh.
And Garam was one of those good people life had given lemons. He lost his only daughter about two years ago.
As much as Yuin would like to stay and be of help, time was of the essence. As the sole guardian to his siblings, caution always had to be exercised.
Im Yuin turned in for the day, and left for home.
He lived in a modest neighborhood, far from the luxury and glitz of downtown.
As he unlocked the metal door and stepped in, he announced, "I'm back."
Footsteps pattered the ground almost instantly, hitting Im Yuin's ears as two young boys with hair and face the same came running toward him.
If not for their differing skin colors, they couldn't be told apart.
Im Yuin had three siblings…triplets of boys. With identical faces, only their skin, hair, and eyes set them apart.
The eldest of the triplets had short black hair with spikes and strands that fell lightly over the top of his forehead, much like Im Yuin's. Though where his was roughly trimmed, Im Yuin's hair was a bit longer, more layered, with a few loose strands falling over his eyes that parted faintly at the center.
Their eyes, however, marked a noticeable difference: the eldest triplet's were a deep blue, while Im Yuin's were pale.
The second of the triplets, meanwhile, shared both hair color and style with the third: wavy, platinum blonde that brushed just above their
brows. His skin, a rich natural brown, set him apart from the others, though his eyes were the same pale shade as Im Yuin's.
The third, in turn, possessed the same deep blue eyes as the eldest.
They were tall, nearly matching Im Yuin in height. Though considering his unimpressive height, that wasn't much of a feat.
To anyone who didn't know better, they might have seemed Im Yuin's age, when in fact, they were only thirteen.
Im Yuin hadn't even settled into the house when they each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him into the room.
"It's begun! It's finally begun!" They announced enthusiastically, drawing Im Yuin's full attention.
On the sole three-seater couch in the room, the eldest triplet sat with a serene composure, exuding the quiet coolness of an evening breeze.
His energy was a stark contrast to the other two, whose gleefulness shone as brightly as the sun.
Im Yuin focused on the TV his siblings urged him to watch: the ongoing reports about the several Paths that had appeared across the country.
Paths that had long been prophesied about and they'd long been anticipating, and preparing for.
Im Yuin's eyes widened for a fleeting moment before narrowing once more.
"It's finally starting," he muttered, a bit melancholic.
As if that wasn't enough to get their point through, the third triplet snatched the phone from the oldest, and shoved it in Im Yuin's face.
"Look, it's everywhere! All over the news!"
Im Yuin chuckled softly at his siblings' enthusiasm. He couldn't begin to judge their reactions at all.
After all, the Chosen were finally going to do what they were called for.
BA-DUM!
His chest tightened.
The world he had watched from the sidelines was finally moving….. without him.
A pang of longing struck him.
Once again, he thought, had I been a Chosen just like them then—
No…
He pushed the thought away. He had no time for dreams he couldn't afford.
He preferred sweating away every bit of his time making money to cater for his siblings.
"All right, I get it. Exciting news," he chuckled with a playful shake of his head. "But back to studying now, I'll go wash my hands."
Though he'd washed them earlier at work, the blisters on his palms still stung, so he needed the relief of cold water.
Im Yuin stepped away from his siblings, and entered the restroom. There, he turned on the faucet and dipped both hands under the cold running water.
The sting was sharp against his skin, but it felt oddly calming as it was something he was used to.
As the water streamed through his slender fingers, his eyes flickered across something that caught his attention.
He lifted his right hand for inspection, and at the side of his ring finger's knuckle—facing the middle finger—a pale crest, resembling a delicate sigil nestled there.
What is this?
Blink!
Am I really not dreaming, He wondered, lifting his hand for a closer look.
It was tiny, about the size of a pearl and perfectly round like a magic circle. With a pale, milky hue, you'd miss it completely if you didn't peer closely as it seemed to meld seamlessly into his skin.
THUMP!
Yuin's heart lurched…
A million thoughts raced through his head.
The mark is different and much lighter than what it's supposed to be, but it's there,
He thought, as although faint, it couldn't be disputed that when a mark mysteriously appeared on a person, it meant that person was a Chosen.
But—
DU-DUM!
His heart hammered against his chest painfully. His fingers trembled and his eyes shook wide as he stared.
A figure; 3, in the same pale, milky color, lay beside the mark.
It didn't belong.
Yuin's body veered sideways, almost collapsing to the floor as his hand that was resting on the sink lost strength. But he was quick to steady his balance.
He shut his eyes, squeezing tight like one attempting to shut out reality.
"But—" He drew a heavy breath."A mark is a mark."
Even if he had never seen one look so…. unsettling.
BA-DUM!
BA-DUM!
His heart pounded heavily, echoing in his own ears like drums. It felt to him like standing at the end of a long tunnel, the light finally within reach.
This is my chance—BA-DUM! If I wait, it might disappear!
His foot pivoted swiftly and instinctively. Before even he could process things, he found himself racing out.
"Don't leave the house!"
Were the only words he threw out as his legs raced him toward the Paths.