The first thing Dreyden noticed wasn't the notice.
It was the silence that came after.
Normally, the Triangle's morning was noise disguised as order—shoes on tile, doors hissing open, the soft chime of interface pings stacking like rain. Even when everyone pretended nothing was happening, the campus always sounded alive.
Today it sounded… careful.
People still walked.
People still talked.
But every conversation stopped half a second too early. Every laugh died like someone remembered the room had ears.
Dreyden stood at the end of the corridor outside the dining hall and watched a pair of Class B students approach a staff checkpoint. They weren't doing anything wrong. They weren't carrying contraband. They weren't grouping up.
They just… hesitated.
Not because they feared the guard.
Because they feared being seen hesitating.
He felt that in his teeth.
