At that moment, the old man, Tamai Kunio, looked at Fujino with gratitude in his eyes.
He nodded repeatedly. "That's right. Once you get used to one kind of cigarette, smoking anything else feels uncomfortable. I've smoked the same brand for years and can't get used to others."
He patted his pocket. "Besides, I still have some on me. I didn't buy any because I was planning to go to the nearby Convenience Store later."
As he spoke, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and politely offered one. "Want one, little brother?"
"I smoke Chunghwa Hard." Fujino pushed the cigarette pack away. "I'm not used to these, and you can't smoke at a crime scene."
"Besides, I've already quit."
"Oh, oh, oh. I was too presumptuous."
Fujino folded his arms and nodded approvingly at the old man before him.
This old man was pretty decent, at least he had manners.
As for smoking, Fujino had genuinely quit after transmigrating here.
Otherwise, he would have gone through a pack a day.
As an outstanding young man who had once been trafficked into a pyramid scheme organization, Fujino had naturally been a heavy smoker in his previous life.
In a pyramid scheme hideout, open and covert struggles were unavoidable. Ordinary people might be able to keep their heads down, but anyone who wanted to climb the ranks had to fight fiercely. And fighting naturally meant sacrifices. With their heads practically hanging from their belts every day, smoking had become routine. Either I sent you to northern Myanmar to have your kidneys carved out, or you sent me there. Normal people could hardly withstand that kind of mental pressure.
So even after getting out of the pyramid scheme organization, it had been hard to quit once the habit formed.
But after transmigrating