"A slave?"
"Yes. At the base, there are many slaves like me."
As he spoke, he broke into a fit of violent coughing. Then, he pulled a name tag from his pocket and handed it to Evelyn Ford. "This is my identification."
Evelyn Ford took the name tag. The name "Mason Morgan" was written on it in red ink. The pin was slightly bent, as if it had been worn for many years.
Mason Morgan was only twenty years old. He had fled to Frelia as a refugee five years ago. For a mouthful of food, he became Chad Lowell's slave.
In reality, it meant being his servant. He didn't just have to serve tea and water. Chad Lowell, now twenty-two, had a violent temper and liked to beat people. But to survive, Mason Morgan had no choice but to eke out a living under him.
He spoke clearly and deliberately, but his clothes were soaked, his lips were pale from the cold, and he couldn't stop shivering.
