Ivan remembered the name Drug D-? clearly.
Its origin was believed to be the NGO Autonomous State of the Mitene Union, located within the Balusa Islands.
That place was known for individuals who specialized in manufacturing narcotics.
In the manga's Chimera Ant arc, the disaster had also begun within NGL.
Ivan hadn't expected that Kakin might have connections with NGL.
It made him wonder whether the Chimera Ant outbreak might have involved Kakin behind the scenes.
But he quickly cut off that train of thought.
His priority right now was solving his own problems.
He understood perfectly well how difficult it was to completely hide one's identity inside the Kakin Empire.
He estimated that within two or three days, news that he was still alive would spread to all the major mafia families.
So within that time frame, he had to prepare for the powerful enemies that would inevitably come after him.
Ivan drove the car into the city.
He still had some cash taken from Zalan.
But checking into a hotel or returning home was impossible.
Hotels required identification.
And his home would definitely be under surveillance.
Going there would be suicide.
Fortunately, Ivan wasn't entirely without options.
There was someone he knew who would definitely help him.
He parked the car in a narrow alley and stepped out.
Then he walked toward a small shop nearby.
It sold sportswear and basic athletic equipment.
Inside, he bought a cheap set of black athletic clothes with a hood, along with a pair of running shoes.
Ivan stood over 180 centimeters tall, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and long legs.
His handsome features and especially his pale golden eyes gave him a striking presence.
But with a slight adjustment of posture—relaxing his back muscles and slumping his shoulders—that aura disappeared.
Now he looked like a dejected young man, someone who had recently fallen on hard times.
There was a hint of melancholy in his expression, mixed with dissatisfaction toward life.
Changing his demeanor like this wasn't difficult.
Back when he served as a royal guard in Naples, he had practiced blending into different environments countless times.
When he left the store, he also took two free tennis balls from a basket near the entrance.
He stuffed them into his hoodie pockets.
They made the pockets bulge slightly.
But they also gave him a small sense of security.
Even if it wasn't much.
With the hood pulled over his head, he looked like an ordinary, somewhat down-on-his-luck young drifter.
He didn't have much money left.
After tossing his blood-stained clothes into a trash bin, Ivan walked into a nearby convenience store.
He grabbed some bread and bottled water.
While waiting at the counter, he glanced at the television broadcasting the news.
Through the window, he could see black cars racing toward the outskirts of the city—the direction he had just come from.
"Looks like another gang fight somewhere," the shop owner said casually while taking his payment.
Ivan nodded.
"Yeah. That's the fourth wave of cars heading out since this morning."
"Fourth wave, huh? Something big must've happened out there in the suburbs," the owner said confidently.
The shop was quiet.
No employees.
That probably meant business wasn't great.
But someone like that—who spent all day watching the street—was often the best source of local information.
Especially since this road led directly to the outskirts.
"Whatever it is, it's not our problem," Ivan said with a shrug, pretending not to care.
"True enough," the owner laughed.
"You new around here? Don't think I've seen you before."
"I just moved from Bonn District," Ivan said while grabbing a cup of instant noodles.
There was a hint of pride in his tone when he mentioned the wealthy district.
"Got any hot water?"
"Of course," the owner replied cheerfully while taking the money.
"But security in Anbo District isn't like Bonn. We're close to the outskirts. Best not to wander around at night."
The man was actually pretty kind.
And Ivan, as a Judicial Bureau investigator, knew exactly what Kakin's security situation was like.
"That's obvious," Ivan said arrogantly before sighing and shaking his head.
Then he casually changed the subject.
"Has something been going on lately? When I moved here the area already felt chaotic. Worse than what my friends told me."
The owner smiled knowingly.
He had seen plenty of people like Ivan—middle-class folks who had fallen on hard times.
Lowering his voice slightly, he leaned forward.
"I heard a rumor. Someone found a human finger inside Guodaojima sausages. The authorities are investigating."
"You know Guodaojima, right?"
"I do," Ivan said with a frown.
"I saw it in the newspapers. The Judicial Bureau already opened a case. But what does that have to do with gangs?"
The owner grinned mysteriously and pointed to a shelf nearby.
"See that? That's where the Guodaojima sausages used to be."
The shelf was completely empty.
"What, did your store find a finger too?" Ivan asked jokingly.
"Get out of here," the owner snorted.
"I broke open a few sausages the day the news came out. No fingers."
"But after the report, gang members came and bought out every sausage in my store."
"Probably an emergency recall by Guodaojima Foods."
"But think about it—if a food company can quietly send gangsters to recover their products…"
"Do you really think those sausages were fine?"
"Good point," Ivan said, pulling his hand away from another pack of sausages nearby.
The shop owner's eye twitched slightly when he saw that.
"So was it just here they recalled them?" Ivan asked.
"Probably not. All of Anbo District for sure. Maybe even Huai District farther out—"
The bell above the door rang.
Several rough-looking youths entered the store.
The owner immediately dropped his mysterious tone and returned to a professional expression behind the counter.
Ivan had wanted to ask which mafia family was responsible for the recall.
But judging from the owner's reaction, that conversation was over.
Still, Ivan was impressed.
The shop owner knew far more than he had expected.
Ivan actually remembered the Guodaojima sausage incident.
Back at the Judicial Bureau, two investigations had been launched:
One into the narcotics trade.
The other into Guodaojima Foods.
Ivan had been assigned to the narcotics case.
But he knew the investigator handling the food investigation.
That could become a useful bargaining chip later.
Ivan sat on a tall stool by the window and began eating his noodles.
Outside, mafia cars rushed toward the outskirts.
Only after they left did police cars finally appear.
But instead of chasing the mafia…
They simply drove slowly down the street as if they were maintaining public order.
The rough youths bought cigarettes and alcohol before leaving.
Shortly afterward, police officers entered the store.
One overweight officer glanced at Ivan several times.
Ivan finished his noodles, tossed the container in the trash, picked up his plastic bag of bread and water—
And calmly walked out of the store while the officer spoke with the shop owner.