Morning came without incident.
That, more than anything, confirmed Oversight's intent.
If they'd panicked, if they'd reacted too soon—crackdowns, statements, visible correction—it would've meant they still believed in shock. In deterrence. In authority as something you could reassert by volume.
Instead, the Triangle woke quietly.
Schedules ran.
Classes opened.
Security didn't tighten.
And that meant the pressure was about to change form.
Dreyden felt it in how people moved.
Not avoidance anymore.
Anticipation.
Students didn't scatter when he entered a space. They didn't cluster either. They did something worse—they lingered. Conversations slowed. Decisions waited until he had passed through, as if his presence altered probabilities without him acting at all.
That kind of pressure wasn't fear.
It was attribution.
