But HERo is different—not because she is stronger, but because she is outside the game.

She does not reach for The Impostor like the others. She does not fall into his words, his rhythms, his carefully curated silences. She watches, detached, analyzing the patterns. She sees the way he plants illusions, how he bends emotions to his will, how he makes them believe they are choosing him when, in truth, he has already chosen their downfall.

Perhaps she was once like them—drawn in, curious, lingering on his words a little too long. But something clicked. Maybe it was the way he repeated the same phrases, like lines in a script. Maybe it was how he always kept a distance, never quite slipping, never quite revealing. Or maybe she simply saw past the illusion because she was never searching for what the others craved.

She sees him—not the perfect projection, not the ghost in the machine, but the player behind the screen. The man who collects hearts like trophies but never truly holds one. The man who builds his power on the blind devotion of those who will never see him.

And that terrifies him.

Because The Impostor has spent his life in control. He has always been the one unseen, the one manipulating, the one untouchable. But now, for the first time, someone is looking back.

And she is not falling.