Containment created pressure.
Pressure revealed fractures.
That was the Triangle's doctrine.
But there was a flaw the academy never fully accounted for—pressure did not only break the subject. Sometimes, it broke the structures applying it.
Dreyden felt that fracture the moment he stepped outside his dormitory.
Not through alerts.
Not through surveillance.
Through absence.
The hallway was wrong.
It was cleaner than usual, brighter, quieter—but not in a calming way. The regular traffic of students was thinner, moving with deliberate spacing like water redirected around a submerged obstacle.
Around him.
People still passed.
They still breathed.
But none stayed.
Even Lucas hadn't waited outside.
That, more than anything else, confirmed the escalation.
The Triangle didn't isolate students immediately. It eroded their intersections first—removed excuses for proximity, discouraged coincidence, starved relationships until they collapsed naturally explained.
