The bell rang.
Sharp. Metallic. Absolute.
Chairs scraped against stone. Desks thudded. Voices rose in loose, overlapping waves as Class A1 came back to life.
I stayed seated for half a second longer than necessary.
Not because I was distracted.
Because I was recalibrating.
Everything had changed.
And nothing had.
The Triangle was still the Triangle.
The academy still smelled the same—stone polished smooth by centuries of ambition, metal warm from constant use, faint traces of ozone and sweat clinging to the air like a second skin.
People still smiled too easily.
Still watched too carefully.
Still measured every interaction like it might turn into a fight, a favor, or a future advantage.
The only difference…
Was me.
I stood, slung my bag over my shoulder, and merged into the exiting flow of Class A1.
No one spoke to me.
No casual greetings. No forced camaraderie. No awkward attempts to reestablish normalcy.
That alone told me enough.
