For once, the wheel didn't spin.
The giant screen stayed dark above the ruined stage, and for a long moment nothing happened at all. Down below, Seul's crater still smoked faintly in the middle of the arena, a wide, deep bowl of broken dirt with cracks running out from it in every direction like a shattered window. Half the dead tree stumps had been knocked flat. Chunks of stone lay scattered everywhere.
Then a familiar voice drifted through the cavern, warm and lazy and amused.
"Well," Bihyeong said, from everywhere and nowhere at once. "That was lovely. Truly. But I'm afraid someone has broken my stage."
A few people in the nearby boxes laughed nervously.
"We'll take a short rest while it mends itself," the dokkaebi went on. "Stretch your legs. Well, as much as you can in a glass box. Talk amongst yourselves. We'll resume shortly."
The voice faded. Down on the stage, the crater began to fill.
