Fantasy Writers 1860

Chapter 90. Fingerprints and Demi-humans

The group continued reading:

[—In his coat pocket was a flat box with grooves inside, each groove containing a piece of glass. The glass pieces were five inches long and three inches wide, and each piece had a strip of white paper attached to its bottom edge.]

He asked someone to rub his hair with their fingers, so that their fingers would have a thin layer of hair oil on them. Then, they would press their thumbprint onto a piece of glass, followed by pressing the fingerprints onto the pads of their other fingers.

He placed the two glass shards back into their appropriate slots in the box. These shards then constituted what Wilson called his "records." Wilson often studied these records, observing and researching them intently until late at night.

"I see. I've noticed before that touching glass leaves a mark on it. So that's what fingerprints are!" A gentleman suddenly realized.

"You found out beforehand, didn't you?" another gentleman rolled his eyes and retorted.

A gentleman with a strong sense of empirical evidence immediately summoned a servant, "Go and prepare some transparent glass plates; I want to try it myself!"

The servant quickly found a shard of glass and Vaseline from somewhere. Following the method in the novel, the gentleman pressed his fingerprints onto the glass shard one by one. Other interested people followed suit and pressed their fingerprints onto the shard.

Everyone curiously gathered around, comparing the glass shards with fingerprints against the light shining through the window. The patterns on each finger were indeed different, and upon closer inspection, no two fingerprints completely overlapped.

Just like in novels, everyone's fingerprints are unique. This is a truly groundbreaking discovery that no one has ever noticed before.

"It really is true—how did Mr. Hakimi know this? Did he discover it himself? Or did some eccentric like Sherlock Holmes tell him?" Some people couldn't help but ask.

The crowd continued watching:

—Standing on Wilson's porch was Roxie. She pushed a locally handcrafted baby carriage, inside which sat her two children, one at each end facing each other. Judging from Roxie's tone of voice, a stranger would think she was a demi-human with animal ears. But that was not the case; she was only one-sixteenth demi-human in blood.—

[—From every aspect of appearance, Roxie looks exactly like a human. However, her one-sixteenth demi-human bloodline overpowers her fifteenth human bloodline, determining her demi-human status.]

Therefore, she was a slave, and could be sold. Her child was 31/32 human, yet according to law and custom, he was still a slave, a demi-human. Like his human companions, he had blue eyes and pale yellow hair; even the human baby's father could only distinguish them by their clothing, as he rarely interacted with them.

At this point, some astute readers have already grasped the underlying meaning of Mr. Hakimi's words.

Recently, wasn't that professor named Langdon Harris the one who murdered his assistant who was one-sixty-fourths of a human?

These people immediately lost most of their interest in the work.

Because in recent years there have been far too many works depicting the so-called awakening and liberation of subhumans, a mixed bag of good and bad, most of which are just the affected whining of petty intellectuals to satisfy their savior complex.

For example, the protagonist is a low-income but free-spirited office worker. Everyone around him looks down on demi-humans, considering them monsters and outcasts. However, he is the only one who pities the demi-human in her difficult situation and is willing to lend her a helping hand.

Then, in the whole world, only that poor, humble subhuman girl/boy could recognize the unfortunate office worker. The two endured countless hardships, and in gratitude and receiving grace, redemption and being redeemed, they defied the cold stares and ridicule of the world and finally ran towards each other and became a perfect couple.

It seems that Mr. Hakimi has also fallen into this trap.

"How do you tell them apart when they're not wearing clothes, Roxie?"

Roxie laughed heartily, a laugh perfectly suited to her figure. "Ah! I can tell them apart, Mr. Wilson. But I'm sure Mr. Percy can't, not even if you killed him."

Wilson chatted for a few more minutes, then immediately had Roxie place her fingerprints on the two glass plates for safekeeping. He had Roxie press her right hand first, then her left, and then labeled the plates with dates. Next, he made "records" for the two babies, labeling them with dates as well.

Two months later, on September 3rd, Wilson took another set of fingerprints from the three men. He liked to take fingerprints in "series": two or three times during childhood, and then once every few years thereafter.

In the third chapter, everyone sees that the maid Roxie, fearing that her master would sell the demi-human maid who stole money, did something outrageous: she switched her own child with her master's child when no one was around!

Those who had been speculating about which chapter Wilson would take this beautiful, yet unrecognizable, demi-human maid into his fold were now stunned.

This development far exceeded their expectations; no one had ever dared to write such a plot in a novel before.

It's not that I couldn't think of it, but if I choose to develop it this way, how should I write the rest?

After their identities were swapped, the lives of the two children were completely reversed. The demi-human child who was supposed to be a slave would grow up as a young master, while the master's son who was supposed to inherit everything would spend his life as a demi-human slave, struggling at the bottom of society.

This will force people to confront an awkward and pointed question: if a demi-human lives a noble life from childhood, is he a nobleman or a demi-human?

Normal people would avoid this topic, but Mr. Hakimi has actually brought it up now, especially at this sensitive time.

Whether they were reformists who supported granting Ajin a certain degree of freedom or conservatives who believed Ajin were inherently inferior, the first thing that came to their minds at this moment was not their own opinions or stances, but rather:

Mr. Hakimi is too brave.

At this moment, everyone tacitly remained silent. No one discussed the plot, no one speculated about what would happen next, and no one complained. They simply raised their heads slowly and looked at each other.

Even close friends can have a falling out over this kind of topic, let alone someone who's just a drinking buddy at a club.

"Speaking of which, the weather is really nice today—" A gentleman turned his head to look at the bright sunshine outside the window.

Today is a sunny day, which is quite rare in Lentinion, where it is always foggy.

"Yes, the weather is really nice today."