There was nothing Yamamoto Takehito could do—Ryōta Kitazawa gave off an aura that was simply too terrifying. Even a man like Yamamoto, a seasoned underworld boss who had seen his share of blood and death, could not help but feel a raw, instinctive fear in Kitazawa's presence.
And it was a particularly unpleasant kind of fear—worse than death itself.
"Well then, tell me who this person is," Kitazawa said with a nod after hearing Yamamoto out.
Any lead was worth pursuing. After all, even the War God System couldn't help him with this one.
"Y-yes… yes. The man's name is Kirov (OC)—he's… a drug lord." Yamamoto swallowed hard before continuing: "His connections run deep. I believe he could be of help to the two of you. Across Europe, North America, Asia—his network reaches into every level of society."
"A drug lord… I see." Kitazawa and Ryōji Kaji exchanged a glance and nodded knowingly.
In some countries, the influence of drug lords was immense. After all, narcotics were worth more than gold; where there were drugs, there was greed for money and power.
Given that, it wasn't surprising Yamamoto would recommend such a man.
"Alright. In that case, I'll trouble you to make the arrangements. If this goes well, I believe NERV will let you walk away." Kitazawa's tone was calm as he spoke.
"Y-yes, yes—thank you, both of you. Please wait a moment, I'll take you there right away."
Although Kitazawa had said NERV might spare him, Yamamoto dared not take those words as a royal decree. Wearing a servile smile, he immediately got into his car, personally driving Kitazawa and Kaji at speed through the streets of Moscow.
The Moscow weather was bitterly cold. In Japan it was summer, yet here the temperature was close to freezing. Despite the chill, the streets were surprisingly crowded.
On a street-corner sign was a string of long Cyrillic letters. Translated into Japanese, the name was "Telo Street." Almost every Muscovite knew this was no ordinary street.
This was the haunt of drug lords and gangsters year-round. Here, drugs and crime were the most pressing social problems. There was even a local saying whose rough translation was: "Good men, keep out."
Telo Street was a criminal's paradise. And now, a car was driving straight into it.
The moment they entered the street, Kitazawa and Kaji were hit by a chilling, oppressive atmosphere. Outside the car windows, the pedestrians all wore sullen expressions. Some were covered in tattoos, others eyed them with naked malice. In the less conspicuous corners, a few shadowy figures were openly puffing on joints of marijuana.
"Telo Street—its reputation is well-earned," Kaji murmured with a nod, the reality even more striking than the rumors.
"Just ahead—we're almost there," Yamamoto called from the driver's seat.
Sure enough, not far ahead, a small café came into view.
It was an unremarkable place. The peeling, blotched paint on the doorframe betrayed its age. Inside, a middle-aged man with a full beard sat at a table, working his way through a large slab of steak.
"Kirov! Long time no see, my brother!"
Striding in, Yamamoto called out in Russian with a booming laugh.
"Oh? Yamamoto—it's you! Come, sit, try this steak I've grilled."
The bearded man named Kirov gave a faint smile, flashing a mouthful of gold teeth.
Around his neck, several scars from blades were visible; his arms bore the marks of gunshot wounds. Everything about him told Kitazawa and Kaji that this Kirov was no ordinary man.
"Heh… Kirov, I'm afraid I don't have the appetite to enjoy your steak right now." Yamamoto gave a strained laugh. "Kirov, I need your help with something—can you do that for me?"
"Oh? What is it? What could be important enough for you to come to me in person?"
Kirov looked Yamamoto over, then glanced at Kitazawa and Katsuragi before speaking in a flat tone.
"These two friends of mine are from Japan—they've just arrived in Moscow and are hoping to find some information. I was hoping you could help them see if there are any leads."
After a quick introduction, Yamamoto made his request.
"What? Japan?"
Kirov's expression shifted sharply. He looked at Kitazawa and Kaji and said coldly, "So now even your Japanese friends come looking for me? I must be more famous than I thought."
"Heh, you flatter us, Mr. Kirov. We came to Moscow simply to ask about something." Kitazawa smiled faintly, then asked in a low voice, "Mr. Kirov, what I'd like to ask about is EVA. I'm sure you've heard of it. Have you ever come across any news or leads related to EVA?"
"Hmph. I'm nothing but a humble seller of cocaine. What business would EVA have with someone like me?" Kirov snorted through his nose. "Evangelion? That sort of thing is far beyond the world I deal in. I think you've come to the wrong person. If you're looking to buy cocaine, I can help. But for this… I'm afraid you'll be disappointed."
"Kirov, do you truly know nothing? You're the largest narcotics dealer spanning Eurasia and North America—surely you've heard at least some scraps of information?"
Seeing Kirov's attitude, Yamamoto began to panic. If this fell through, he feared Kitazawa might turn on him—and his life was in Kitazawa's hands.
"I told you—if I don't know, I don't know. Gentlemen, you should leave. And you, Yamamoto—you know I don't like dealing with government types. Out!"
With a loud smack of his palm on the table, Kirov barked the words, his voice echoing through the café.
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