Garan did not call him out immediately, however, simply because—judging by the special mineral cuff on his neck—Garan knew this person was a slave.
It wasn’t that he wanted to discriminate—that was something very rare to see in his time back in Terran. It was just that the slaves in this world had a really low position.
They had such a low status; they were barely even considered humans. It was the type made to eat pig food and sleep on grass on a daily basis.
Interacting excessively with a slave you didn’t own could get them noticed. And not in a good way.
After hesitating for a moment, he turned his head to Jones.
Pointing at the cleaner, he said, "He looks very good at cleaning. There’re a lot of shoes at home that are in need of major care."
Garan looked indifferently at the man behind the counter, furtively giving a handful of silver, but seeming like he wouldn’t really care if he couldn’t borrow the slave.
The man stared at him for a second and took the money without looking at it. "Get him back before closing time."
"Got it." He said and took the man—who they now realized lacked an arm—back to the rented house.
….
"Tell me what you want to say," Garan asked as he sat in their small living area.
At this time, most of the team were out for tasks, and only a few people other than Gill were in the house with him. This included the youngest Luis as well as the narrow-eyed Mao.
As the slave sat still, Garan couldn’t help but notice something different. For instance, the locals were inherently taller but the proportions were the same, unlike with this man.
This man was definitely human, but there were slight variations. For example, he had very pudgy fingers for his body type, he had an abnormally long neck. He also seemed to have a larger and bulkier upper body, to the point of disproportion.
The most noticeable feature was probably the slightly blue tint to him, though it could also be he was just very pale and lacked melanin.
These differences weren’t big, but they were there. If noticed, however, most people would just assume he had a very odd body type.
Similarly, the aborigines also came in different skin tones and body builds, otherwise his team’s variety of color would’ve gathered excessive attention. In terms of appearance, except for the size, they were basically identical to the indigenous humans here.
The man was silent for a while before looking at each of them one by one, similarly observing. No one spoke for a moment until the slave spoke out, "You’re not from this continent."
It was a statement.
Everyone’s backs straightened and they looked at him warily. A few even had a weapon at arm’s length.
"How’d you know?" They asked, guarded. Although most aborigines knew they weren’t from anywhere nearby, it was never assumed that they were not ’of this world’ at all.
This made them look at this man with a little hostility, and a boat-loads of guardedness. The man, however, did not flinch under their stares.
He simply paused and closed his eyes, as if recalling thousands of painful memories. "I know because you weren’t the only ones." He said,
"Because 20 years ago, I had been asking the same things you are."
.
.
.
"What?" It was Gill who talked this time.
The man’s eyebrows furrowed and clenched his fists, obviously images of a distant, painful, past passed by his head.
"I mean this wasn’t the first time people from other places got transferred here.
"There was a whole civilization that was transferred twenty years ago, and there was one probably a hundred years prior."
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