My Roommate Was a Chain-Smoker

Rayne followed the stairs up to the third floor. The corridor was long, with identical iron doors lining both sides.

Before he could find Room 307, an intense, nearly pungent cigar smell forcefully invaded his nostrils.

Rayne halted, his brows immediately knitting together.

"Is someone... burning something in the hallway?"

He instinctively quickened his pace, wanting only to find his room as quickly as possible and get away from this area. Yet the farther he went, the stronger the smell became, as though its source lay directly ahead.

He stopped.

Before him was the dormitory door bearing the number "307."

And that suffocating smoke smell, almost solid enough to touch, was relentlessly seeping out through the cracks around the door.

Rayne stood outside the door in silence.

"Does an anthropomorphic mobile incinerator live in there?"

Taking a deep breath, he inserted the key into the lock with the apprehension of opening a mystery box.

What greeted him was not a dorm room, but a "fairyland" completely shrouded in thick smoke.

The light warped through the murky haze, reducing visibility to less than three meters. The air carried a strange mixture of cigar smoke and sweat, making him nearly cough on the spot. The room was a complete mess—empty food wrappers, liquor bottles, balled-up smelly socks... they were everywhere.

At the center of that "earthly paradise," a silhouette emerged.

Unruly white hair, a white tank top exposing solid muscle, and, held arrogantly between his lips—two cigars billowing thick smoke at once.

Rayne's mind was instantly filled with the mixed feeling of just as I expected and the irritation of trouble showing up at his door.

"Damn... that distinctive white hair, that suicidal way of smoking... no mistake, it's the future 'Smoker,' Smoker."

"Great," Rayne thought expressionlessly. "On the first day of school, I've already run into a humanoid mobile chimney. Staying here peacefully for a whole year is going to be difficult."

While Rayne was silently complaining, the figure heard the door open. He could not even be bothered to turn around, merely shouting in an extremely impatient, hoarse voice:

"New guy? Shut the door! The smoke's getting out!"

Rayne drew a deep breath and suppressed the urge to turn around and leave. He decided to try reasoning with this unruly chain-smoker before resorting to force.

Expressionless, he shut the door and placed his only travel bag on the sole patch of floor near the entrance that looked remotely clean. Then he put on a friendly, harmless smile, stepped forward, and spoke first.

"Hello, I'm Rayne. Starting today, I'm your roommate."

He paused, then said in an extremely polite tone, "Um... I'm personally a little sensitive to smoke. Could you smoke on the balcony or in the hallway instead? It would be better for both of us."

Smoker slowly turned his head. His sharp eyes openly scrutinized Rayne from head to toe, filled with disdain.

"Hah?" As if he had heard some enormous joke, he snorted through his nose, then took a hard drag on his cigars and deliberately blew a thick cloud of smoke straight into Rayne's face.

"Sensitive? That's your problem." Smoker gestured toward the door with his chin, his tone unbearably arrogant. "This is my territory. I'll smoke wherever the hell I want. If you can't stand it, get out and sleep in the hallway!"

The smile on Rayne's face did not change in the slightest. Yet behind that choking smoke, his gaze instantly turned cold.

He still tried to reason with him in the same calm tone. "According to Chapter Three, Article Seven of the Marine Recruit Training Camp Regulations, smoking is strictly prohibited in the dormitory area. I'm only reminding you not to violate the rules."

This was a lie!

Rayne had no idea whether any Marine Recruit Training Camp Regulations even existed. But he bet Smoker paid even less attention to such things, so he made it up on the spot.

"Rules?"

Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Smoker instantly bristled. He leaped down from the bed and nearly pressed his face against Rayne's, growling in a deeply oppressive manner:

"Don't use that bullshit rulebook to pressure me! In my world, fists are the only rules!"

Before his words had even faded, his entire lower body transformed without warning into surging, rolling white smoke! Like a living tornado, it instantly swept through the cramped dormitory and swallowed Rayne as well!

"Since you love talking so much," Smoker said with a rebellious sneer, his upper body still solid, "then I'll have a proper talk with you!"

The next second, the smoky tornado blasted open the dormitory door and surged into the hallway, carrying Rayne with it!

Rayne did not resist at all. Even with his current strength, he could not guarantee that the tables and chairs would not get caught up in the fight. Going outside was fine too.

The smoke carried Rayne into the corridor, and the massive commotion immediately alerted the neighboring rooms.

Quite a few dorm doors cracked open, heads poking out one after another to watch the excitement.

Rayne even spotted a tall woman with pink hair, nearly as tall as Smoker. Her long legs were wrapped in standard Marine trousers, appearing especially straight and slender.

The young woman had no unnecessary expression on her face. She merely swept a lazy, amused gaze over the scene.

"Hmm? Wait... that spectator is a woman?"

Rayne's thoughts instantly veered in a strange direction.

"So the Elite Training Camp has mixed-gender dorms? Has the atmosphere at Marine Headquarters become this open-minded already?"

In the hallway, the smoke dispersed, and Smoker returned to solid form. He clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking loudly, then flashed Rayne a provocative grin. "Kid, say that again. What were you saying just now? I didn't hear you!"

Cheers and whistles rose one after another from the surrounding rooms.

Just as the tension reached its peak, ready to erupt at any moment.

"—Both of you, stop right the hell now!!!"

A thunderous roar exploded from the end of the hallway, making everyone's ears ring!

A tall, burly instructor had appeared there at some point. The lower half of his face bore a black Iron Jaw tattoo resembling the fangs of Sea Kings. His gaze was so vicious it seemed ready to devour people alive, and the rage on his face was enough to make children cry.

The rookies who had been watching scattered like startled rabbits, darting back into their rooms. The hallway instantly became empty.

Instructor Iron Jaw strode over to the two of them in a few steps. He glanced at the nearly tangible smoke inside Room 307, then at Rayne and Smoker, who were still poised for a fight. His brows twisted into a tight knot.

"Very good... looks like you two have plenty of energy."

A savage smile appeared on Iron Jaw's face.

"Since you're so lively, go have a proper 'bonding session' in the confinement room!"

Pointing toward the stairs, he barked in a tone that allowed no argument:

"You two! Now! Immediately! Get the hell to the confinement room! Neither of you is coming out before tomorrow morning!"