A thin trail of smoke curled lazily in the dim-lit room, blurring the sharp glare of the massive screen wall in front of them.
Thousands of projections flickered, each showing chaotic flashes of the survival trial — terrified teenagers scrambling through the forest, some crying, others bleeding, few daring to fight back. The air was quiet, save for the faint hum of the monitors and the occasional scream echoing through the speakers.
A man with silver-streaked hair leaned back in his chair, the glowing tip of his cigarette casting a faint orange hue on his calm face. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift upward. "So… what do you think of this year's batch?"
The man beside him scoffed, arms folded. "As usual, nothing much."
