Morning came without ceremony.

No proclamation greeted the dawn. No bells rang to mark a sanctioned hour. No banners unfurled from the palace towers to reassure the city that someone, somewhere, was still in control. The sun rose as it always had—slow, pale at first, then brightening—casting light over rooftops and river and stone that looked unchanged to any casual eye.

That was the danger of it.

Nothing looked broken.

The city woke expecting instruction.

And found none.

Shopkeepers ...