"Who cares? It's all a big show anyway," the bald man said impatiently, his deep voice echoing across the floating balcony. "That's exactly why the Capital Games matter. I don't want random participants this time. I want the good ones, the desperate ones, the ones who betray each other when fear enters their hearts—and most importantly, I want someone who will dance exactly the way I tell them to."
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with the authority of someone long accustomed to obedience. Even the way he spoke suggested he had no patience for hesitation.
Beside him stood a young assistant dressed in a sleek silver uniform. The moment he finished speaking, she bowed quickly.
"Yes, Director Tom."
She hurried away without daring to ask questions, disappearing through the sliding doors at the far end of the balcony.
The balcony itself did not remain still.
