The guard at the shower block entrance finished his morning rotation at 10:50AM with the exact same procedural fidelity he'd maintained since the first day. Same clipboard rhythm. Same pauses. Same little bureaucratic rituals that people mistake for vigilance because they happen on schedule.
No deviation in behavior, which meant no filed report. No altered exchange with the corridor guard beyond the standard check-in script they'd probably repeated often enough to stop hearing themselves say it.
In other words, the shower block had produced nothing visible.
Proxy stood in the yard twenty meters from the entrance and watched the guard complete the cycle before looking toward Nyx.
She stood beside him with two fingers resting lightly on his sleeve and the calm expression of someone who had already completed a task and saw no particular reason to interrogate whether the task should have existed in the first place. A frightening personality trait, depending on the task.
