Rumors didn't explode at the Triangle.
They settled in.
By morning, Dreyden didn't hear anything directly—but he felt it in the way people moved.
Footsteps slowed half a second too early.
Voices didn't stop when he passed.
They bent.
That was new.
He walked down the main corridor toward first lecture with his hands in his pockets, like always. Shoulders loose. Expression neutral.
He didn't try to intimidate.
He didn't try to disappear.
That alone shifted traffic.
Students adjusted around him without thinking about why. A shoulder angled. A path widened. Someone stepped aside before realizing they had.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was instinct.
Lucas got admiration. Excited whispers. Eyes following him.
Dreyden got space.
"…he copies skills."
"No, he studies patterns."
"I heard Oversight called him in."
That one traveled fastest.
Oversight.
Dreyden didn't slow when he heard it.
Denying things like that made them louder.
He entered the lecture hall and took his seat.
