Tuesday.
3:47 P.
M.
The Psychology Department began to empty as the afternoon lectures drew to a close.
Students filtered into the courtyard in small groups, chatting about their assignments, exams, and weekend plans.
Autumn was already settling over London, and the great old trees that bordered Blackthorn University had begun to shed their leaves.
Sam leaned against one of the pillars in the courtyard outside Room 302, rereading the slip of paper Professor Holloway had given them that morning.
Only four words stood out on the page.
Which lie does he believe?
Nothing else.
No subject.
No photograph.
No instructions.
Mehjabeen leaned against the pillar next to him.
“I’ve been thinking about it for an hour.”
“So have I.”
“And?”
Sam folded the note carefully, slipping it into his notebook before he replied.
“I don’t think we’re looking for a liar.”
She frowned.
“The assignment specifically says ‘lie.'”
“It says ‘someone believes one.'”
“…There’s a difference.”
She stared at him for several seconds before sighing dramatically.
“I hate when you’re right before explaining why.”
Sam adjusted his glasses.
“If someone lies to you…”
“…the lie belongs to them.”
“If you lie to yourself…”
“…the lie belongs to you.”
For the first time that day…
Mehjabeen had nothing to say.
“FOUND YOU!”
Ollie’s voice rang out from across the courtyard.
He was already waving two sandwiches above his head as he drew closer, grinning from ear to ear.
“I’ve brought food!”
Ethan was right behind him, balancing four cups of coffee on his hands.
Claire was several paces back, reading a book and somehow managing to avoid every other student in the courtyard.
Sam turned to Ollie.
“Why are you shouting?”
“So you could find me.”
“I already had.”
“…Good point.”
Claire closed her book.
“That might be the shortest argument Ollie’s ever lost.”
Ethan passed Sam a coffee.
“Consider it payment.”
“For what?”
“For helping me pass Professor Holloway’s class.”
“I haven’t helped you yet.”
“I have faith.”
Sam took the coffee from him.
“That’s dangerous.”
The five of them sat down on a bench overlooking the university gardens.
For a while, no one said anything.
It wasn’t uncomfortable.
Just…
quiet.
Ollie was the first to speak.
“So…”
“Who’s your mystery person?”
Mehjabeen glanced at Sam.
“We don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“We weren’t given one.”
Ollie’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“That’s either incredibly unfair…”
“…or incredibly interesting.”
Claire nodded.
“I’d vote for both.”
Sam unfolded the note once more, reading over the words carefully.
Which.
Lie.
Does.
He.
Believe.
Then it occurred to him.
“He.”
Mehjabeen raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“The assignment assumes the subject is male.”
“So?”
“So…”
He turned his gaze to the students walking past the courtyard.
“…our subject has already been chosen.”
Claire tilted her head.
“Meaning?”
“This isn’t a general exercise.”
“It’s specific.”
Ollie looked around dramatically.
“So there’s a random guy on campus believing something stupid?”
Ethan laughed.
“That doesn’t exactly narrow it down.”
“Actually…”
A familiar voice cut through the conversation.
“It narrows it more than you think.”
Professor Holloway stood at the end of the bench, holding a stack of papers in one hand.
The five students quickly stood.
“Relax.”
He gave them a small smile.
“I’m only passing by.”
Mehjabeen stepped forward.
“Professor…”
“Is the assignment about finding someone who’s lying?”
“No.”
“Someone being lied to?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Professor Holloway turned his gaze to the clock tower at the center of the courtyard.
“Have you ever been completely certain about something…”
“…only to discover you were wrong?”
No one answered.
Because everyone had.
“Good.”
He nodded.
“Then you already understand the assignment.”
With that…
He turned back to the bench, walking away from the five stunned students.
Ollie was the first to speak.
“…Does he always answer questions with more questions?”
Claire didn’t look up from her book.
“It’s exhausting.”
“I think it’s entertaining.”
“I think you’re strange.”
“I’ve accepted that.”
The afternoon slipped away faster than any of them expected.
They’d decided to split up, searching the campus for any sign of their mystery person.
Not to stalk them.
To observe them.
If someone truly believed a lie…
Then their actions were bound to reveal it somehow.
Sam and Mehjabeen wandered towards the central gardens.
Students sat all over the place, some chatting on benches while others studied the lecture notes in their hands.
A guitarist played a quiet tune nearby, and the general atmosphere was the same as it had been for the past few years.
It was normal.
Then Sam stopped walking.
Mehjabeen nearly walked into his back.
“What?”
He gestured towards a man sitting under a maple tree nearby.
Mid-twenties.
Dressed nicely.
Reading a newspaper.
Every sixty seconds…
Without fail…
He looked over his shoulder.
Once.
Then returned to reading.
After another sixty seconds…
He did it again.
Exactly the same.
Mehjabeen whispered,
“He’s nervous.”
Sam said nothing.
She continued watching the man.
“He thinks someone is following him.”
Still no response.
After nearly five minutes…
Sam finally spoke.
“How many times has he looked back?”
“Twelve.”
“And how many times has anyone actually walked behind him?”
She stopped.
She hadn’t counted.
Her focus had been on the man.
Not the people around him.
Sam had been watching both.
“…Three.”
He nodded.
“So why did he look back twelve times?”
Mehjabeen slowly turned her gaze back to the man.
For the first time…
She wasn’t watching his actions.
She was questioning his beliefs.
And suddenly…
The assignment didn’t seem so impossible after all.
It had only just begun.
The young man continued to sit under the maple tree.
The newspaper in his hands never changed pages.
Every minute…
He looked over his shoulder.
Always the same.
Mehjabeen kept her gaze fixed on him.
“…He’s expecting someone.”
Sam shook his head.
“That’s still a conclusion.”
She exhaled quietly.
“Right.”
“What do we actually know?”
Mehjabeen opened her notebook.
“We know…”
“He checks behind him every sixty seconds.”
“He hasn’t read a single page.”
“His coffee has gone cold.”
“He arrived before we did.”
“And…”
She looked up at him.
“…he doesn’t seem to be waiting for anyone anymore.”
Sam nodded.
“Better.”
“But we still don’t know why.”
The next forty minutes passed in silence.
The man continued his routine, looking back every sixty seconds.
Then…
An old groundskeeper walking behind him with a wheelbarrow passed by.
The man didn’t look up.
Mehjabeen frowned.
“…Why didn’t he look back?”
Sam smiled faintly.
“Because his minute wasn’t over.”
She looked at him.
“…He’s following a routine.”
“Exactly.”
“It isn’t the people.”
“It’s the timing.”
At precisely 4:52 P.
M., the man folded his newspaper, standing up.
He looked behind him one final time before walking towards the gates of the university.
Sam and Mehjabeen followed at a respectful distance, not wanting to alarm him.
The man crossed the street, stopping outside a small convenience store.
He bought a bottle of water before continuing on his journey, eventually reaching a quiet residential street.
Finally, he arrived at a modest brick house.
An elderly woman opened the door as soon as she saw him, smiling warmly.
“There you are.”
“You looked behind you again, didn’t you?”
The young man lowered his head sheepishly.
“…Only a little.”
“You promised your therapist.”
“I know.”
The woman gently placed a hand on his shoulder.
“No one’s following you.”
“They haven’t been for years.”
He forced a smile.
“I know…”
But his eyes gave him away.
He didn’t.
The door closed.
Silence fell over the street.
Mehjabeen stared at the house.
“…I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Neither was I.”
She slowly closed her notebook.
“The lie…”
Sam looked up at the empty street.
“He believes someone is following him.”
“But nobody is.”
She nodded.
“That’s sad.”
“It is.”
“But notice something.”
“What?”
“We almost believed it too.”
She thought back to everything that had happened.
The routine.
The glances over his shoulder.
The unease in his posture.
It all pointed to one obvious conclusion.
Someone was following him.
Except…
They weren’t.
His mind was playing tricks on him, convincing him that he was being watched when he wasn’t.
The following morning…
Room 302.
Professor Holloway stood at the front of the classroom, watching the students with an expectant look.
“I trust your observations were productive.”
Several students gave confident nods.
One by one…
The teams presented their findings.
“Our subject was hiding exam results.”
“Our subject lied to his girlfriend.”
“Our subject was secretly interviewing for another job.”
Each one sounded impressive.
Each one had a solid conclusion.
Professor Holloway listened to every report before turning to Sam and Mehjabeen.
“Your report?”
Mehjabeen stood.
“Our subject repeatedly looked over his shoulder.”
“He appeared convinced someone was following him.”
Professor Holloway nodded.
“And was someone following him?”
“No.”
“Then why did he keep looking?”
She hesitated before finally speaking.
“Because…”
“He believed someone was.”
Sam continued.
“The assignment wasn’t to identify a lie.”
“It was to identify…”
“…the lie he believed.”
Professor Holloway crossed his arms.
“And how did you verify it?”
“We followed him.”
“We observed his interaction with a family member.”
“We avoided making conclusions until we had evidence.”
Silence fell over the room once more.
Then Professor Holloway gave a small smile.
“Excellent.”
He turned to the chalkboard, writing one sentence without another word.
People rarely act according to reality.
They act according to what they believe reality to be.
He underlined the second line.
“The human mind…”
“…doesn’t respond to truth.”
“It responds to perception.”
The room fell completely silent.
“Remember this.”
“You’ll spend your entire lives meeting people…”
“…whose greatest enemy isn’t another person.”
“It’s an idea.”
After class…
Ollie caught up with Sam in the hallway.
“So?”
“Did you solve it?”
“I don’t think psychology has ‘solutions.'”
Ollie rolled his eyes.
“You know what I mean.”
Sam gave a small smile.
“We understood him.”
“I guess that’s close enough.”
Ethan joined them.
“So who’s hungry?”
Claire closed the book she had been reading.
“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all day.”
“I’ll take the compliment.”
The five of them walked towards the university café.
For once…
Nobody talked about their assignments or their grades.
They argued about whether pineapple belonged on pizza.
It was loud.
Unimportant.
And, somehow…
Sam enjoyed every minute of it.
He couldn’t remember the last time university had felt…
normal.
Late that evening…
Long after the university had emptied…
A single desk lamp cast shadows over an unfamiliar office somewhere in London.
A gloved hand placed a thin folder on the desk, sliding it open to reveal a single photograph.
Sam Valecroft.
Across from him…
A man in a gray suit studied the report, his expression unreadable.
“Observation?”
The gloved figure gave a quiet reply.
“He refused to assume.”
“And the girl?”
“She’s beginning to learn from him.”
The man in the gray suit closed the folder.
“No.”
He corrected gently.
“They’re beginning to learn…”
“…from each other.”
There was a pause before he asked one final question.
“Has he noticed us?”
The observer looked out the window, watching the rain fall.
“…Not yet.”
The man in gray turned off the desk lamp.
“Good.”
“Keep it that way.”
Darkness swallowed the room, leaving only one file visible under the moonlight.
The corner bore a symbol.
A circle…
Crossed by seven thin lines.
End of Chapter 12
TO BE CONTINUED……