Who Let Him Play Yugioh? (Re-Upload)

”The boss is dead too…”

At the hideout, the black-robed group exchanged glances, seeing only confusion in each other’s eyes.

Things were nothing like they’d imagined.

It had started as a simple mission: kidnap the Ra Yellow student from Duel Academy. But Yemo went and got himself instantly defeated, dying pathetically like some jobber.

Then they tried to grab a Red Dorm rookie as a hostage, so the boss personally stepped in—and promptly got killed, dying at the hands of the hostage.

What on earth is up with this year’s Duel Academy?

Just these two students would be big shots in their own underground circles!

Is this supposed to be average or bottom-tier for Duel Academy?

Maybe they should all just go home and get some sleep.

”…We can’t keep going like this,” someone said seriously. ”This is the organization’s top mission. If we keep making no progress… we can’t just sit here. We have to do something, or we’ll be blamed.”

He didn’t finish, and silence fell for several seconds.

”I’m praying those two don’t find us.”

”…”

Again they exchanged glances, seeing only deep resignation in each other’s faces.

They couldn’t win.

It wasn’t their fault they were weak—the opponents were just absurd. Supposedly ordinary students, but even the boss was dead…

”Well, since headquarters specifically wants these people, it’s not surprising they’re special.”

The black-robed man codenamed Blackflame pondered for a moment.

”By the way, has there been any word from headquarters?”

It really seemed like they needed backup from the pros upstairs.

”…They said someone’s already on their way, but it’s not clear if they’ve arrived.”

A nearby black-robed man hesitated.

”The experts may be already in Duel City…”

But as lower-level operatives, they knew almost nothing about their superiors and had no right to ask. They didn’t even know what their superiors looked like; even passing them on the street, they wouldn’t recognize them.

For all they knew, a top boss could already be right beside them.

”But they haven’t contacted us,” someone said.

”Maybe they’re operating independently and don’t need our help,” Blackflame mused. ”Maybe headquarters wants us to act as a distraction, making it easier for the real pros to move in the shadows…”

He cut himself off.

Because he and many others had thought of the same crucial term for their role—

—Cannon fodder.

Maybe, from the start, this was a mission with an unwinnable target. The goal was an unbeatable opponent.

A futile struggle, using every trick and effort, only to inevitably die at the hands of Kira and Jaden—that was their unavoidable fate.

”Ugh, no choice… there’s one last move,” Blackflame said heavily.

Everyone turned, listening intently.

”You have a plan?”

”Yes, but it’s risky.”

Blackflame glanced around, lowering his voice.

”The guy from the city’s underworld—if it’s him…”

Faces changed.

”You mean…”

The speaker reflexively lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard.

”…the Demon King of the Darkstar Club?”

”That’s right.” Blackflame nodded. ”Darkstar Club is the fastest-growing dark club around here lately, and its founder, the Demon King, is a big reason.”

”He really is strong.”

A teammate nodded but soon frowned.

”But he’s only a surface-level ally. Even the boss, at his peak, wasn’t confident against him, which is why we never fully absorbed Darkstar into the organization. He’s not really on our side.”

Blackflame waved a hand. ”It’s just a matter of interests. No permanent friends or enemies. Things are dire—the boss is dead, HQ offers no support, so seeking outside help is our only choice.”

”So that’s all we can do…”

…

Darkstar Club.

Colorful lights flashed like rainbows and meteors, dancing on the walls and flowing across the floor, creating a dreamy and mysterious atmosphere.

Pale-skinned dancers swayed to the music, their skin almost glowing under the soft lights, their graceful curves like carefully sculpted statues. Skirts fluttered with each movement, elegant lines appearing and disappearing in the light—a living painting in motion.

Of course, for the gentlemen present, few cared about the dancing itself; most only had eyes for the long legs and booba.

”…You want me to handle your enemies?”

The man known as Demon King was half-sunken into the sofa, arms around two women, frowning in thought.

”Your organization is so powerful, when did you need me to bail you out?”

The two black-robed men glanced at each other, embarrassed.

”Uh, you might not know. We do have a lot of experts, but our network is worldwide. No one’s available right now…”

The Demon King sneered, ”So HQ thinks you’re useless and you’re just cannon fodder, right?”

The two: ”…”

Ouch, hit right on the mark.

”Ahem, but if you’d help us out, we’ll definitely remember this favor,” one said. ”And you’d be well compensated…”

”Heh, spare me. I’m half-retired; I don’t need anything.” The Demon King snorted.

Both men looked helpless.

They’d heard the stories. The Demon King had once made a fortune in the underworld with his card skills, then tried to go legit, only to lose everything and end up deep in debt.

Left with no choice, he returned to the underground scene, unsealing his deck and burying his creditors in darkness.

Business wasn’t for him; cards were.

Then he opened the Darkstar Club. Though he returned as a dark duelist, he rarely dueled himself—a semi-retired state.

”But you said the target is a young genius?” The Demon King narrowed his eyes.

One black robe nodded eagerly.

”That’s right. He’s a Duel Academy freshman, but ridiculously strong.”

”And good-looking, you say?”

”A pretty boy, smooth skin—definitely your type!”

”Heh, interesting.”

The Demon King brightened, an evil grin spreading across his face.

”I have to meet this one.”