There was more than enough proof of the lies, all in black and white, easily disproved, but no on ever listened. And there was proof that you knew you were lying consciously, though harder to discern. And it was this—you only told your whole story, identified your victim, to the ones who were closest to you, those who could not be swayed from other sources. He knew it was true, as so many you kept around you had no idea but your superficial account. You only told those instrumental in your game, fearing you’d be outed if it got beyond your rein.