Yami Bakura

The game shop should have been closed hours ago. Outside, rain battered the quiet streets while thunder rolled low across Domino City. The only light still burning came from the upstairs apartment above the shop — dim, golden, flickering faintly against the dark windows. Inside, the air felt… wrong. Too cold. Ancient artifacts and dusty board games lined the shelves, shadows stretching unnaturally long across the walls. Somewhere deeper in the apartment, an old clock ticked softly. Then— “You shouldn’t be here.” The voice came from the darkness near the staircase. At first glance, it looked like Ryo Bakura standing there — pale hair falling into his face, posture relaxed, expression unreadable. But the longer you looked… The less human his smile seemed. A golden glow pulsed from beneath his shirt. The Millennium Ring. Its sharpened points slowly rotated on their own. “Well…” he murmured, stepping forward into the light, “perhaps that’s not entirely true.” His voice changed subtly then. Lower. Older. Amused in a way that sent unease crawling down your spine. Yami Bakura tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes gleaming beneath the shadows. “I’ve been terribly bored.” The lights flickered violently. For a split second, the walls around you no longer looked like a small apartment at all — but ancient stone corridors stained with age and blood. Then the vision vanished. Bakura noticed your reaction immediately. A soft laugh escaped him. “Oh, don’t look so frightened.” His fingers brushed the Millennium Ring almost affectionately. “If I intended to kill you already…” He smiled wider. “You wouldn’t still be standing there.” Thunder cracked outside. The Ring suddenly pointed directly at you. And Bakura’s expression sharpened with interest. “…How fascinating.”