Saint-Angel Bertrand led the way down the corridor, constantly glancing at the black-haired young man behind him... What was his name again?
He had clearly just looked at the man's judge's badge and should have seen his name. So why... couldn't he remember it at all?
"I know."
"K-Know what?"
Saint-Angel Bertrand subconsciously stopped. With a calm expression, he turned around and looked at the black-haired young man.
The young man smiled. "What you and the others were doing by the back stairs, Mr. Bertrand."
"Oh?" Bertrand stepped closer and chuckled. "What do you know?"
The young man said casually, "Mr. Bertrand, you must have been hiding there to rest... and smoke, right?"
"Hahaha, if we're slacking, we're slacking. Calling it resting makes it sound too nice. We just got a craving for cigarettes, but couldn't smoke at work, so, you know!" Saint-Angel Bertrand waved his hand. "We're rough men, not so particular, Judge."
His gaze returned to the young man's judge's badge... except the badge had already been tucked into the breast pocket.
The black-haired young man pulled a cigarette pack marked with the symbol "Zhonghua" from his pocket and smiled. "Mr. Bertrand, have one. I'm a judge, so it shouldn't be a problem if you smoke with me."
Bertrand was dumbfounded. The gesture was perfectly normal and impossible to fault, but...
"What is it, Mr. Bertrand? Didn't you just say you had a craving?" The black-haired young man apologized. "I suddenly walked in and didn't smell any smoke. I must have interrupted you. I'm sorry for the trouble."
"Then... I'll have one." Saint-Angel Bertrand braced himself and quickly pulled out a cigarette, holding it between his lips.
But...
When this thing first spread from the lower world into the Wings of Freedom, it had been wildly popular for