On instinct, Bakura moved to cover the faded scar marring the his left hand. That... was a complicated question. Between Pegasus, who had been killed by his hands, something he had never truly forgiven himself for, and some of the things he had done in the City...

"A little..." he admitted softly. He was not as pure and made of white light as he kept being mistaken for, something that always caused him a touch of discomfort whether it was Ben or Beatrice who mentioned it. But this wasn't the place for that.