The Triangle didn't creak.
It thickened.
That was the first thing I noticed the morning after the dual-lead drill.
Conversations were sharper, but shorter. Movements more deliberate. Students didn't cluster aimlessly anymore. Even casual hallway stops had shape—triangles of discussion rather than circles, exit lanes always visible.
Compression, yes.
But organized compression.
Oversight had widened the arena.
Now everyone was testing how far they could lean without snapping it.
Arden wasn't at breakfast.
That alone sent three different rumors through the Class A table in under six minutes.
"She's meeting Oversight."
"She's reviewing data."
"She's being restricted."
Lucas glanced at me over the rim of his drink. "You know which one it is."
"Yes."
"And?"
"She's being evaluated."
"For what?"
"For not creating friction."
Lucas frowned. "That's a problem?"
"For them," I said. "Yes."
09:18 — Upper Strategy Hall
Arden returned just before first bell.
Same uniform.
