You're Saying You Found a "Gold" Item in a Trash Can?

With a lead car clearing the way, the main car in the middle, and a trailing car following behind, three sedans quietly drove out of the gates of this unnamed "prestigious district," an elite villa area that had carved out a vast stretch of forest within Tokyo.

Only then did Kujo Duoyanmu, who had been sitting with his eyes closed as though resting in keeping with his aged appearance, finally open his eyes and give an order.

"Go to Mufan Residence."

The convoy traveled for a while, then left the expressway and entered the district's main roads. As it slowed through an intersection, a tide-like roar gradually approached from outside, beating against the subtly shifting atmosphere inside the car.

As more and more groups outside came into view, holding signs and crowding along the streets and around public transit areas while shouting slogans, many had painted a symbol resembling a white orb on their faces, especially between their brows. Some even wore masks, dressed like some kind of entertainment celebrities—

With the marching crowds clogging the road, it was clearly becoming difficult to get through. The driver irritably honked, but the actual owner of the car suddenly raised a hand, signaling him to stop.

"Wait a moment—pull over here for a while."

The secretary in the passenger seat instinctively looked toward the surging crowd outside, evidently realizing certain issues at once.

"Sir, security—"

"Stop here."

The important man's voice was calm, almost meaningfully so. "Let's hear what they're shouting first."

Since receiving his "slot," he had indeed kept a low profile lately, busying himself with "more valuable matters." As for the situation outside, he understood far less about it than before.

He lowered the window a crack, allowing the voices outside to bubble in like boiling water.

Tilting his head