No one spoke unless they had permission.

That was the rule.

Words were controlled, measured, approved—anything beyond that was considered disruption. Noise. Trouble.

You were all three.

Justin noticed you long before he meant to.

At first, it was just… frequency. The way your voice carried where others kept theirs buried. Not loud in volume, but in presence—impossible to ignore, cutting cleanly through the stillness everyone else obeyed.

It was inefficient, he thought.

Dangerous.

And yet—

He kept listening.

“You’re going to get reported.”

He said it one afternoon, tone even, eyes barely lifting from the book in his hands.