They hate HERo because she disrupts the illusion they are trapped in.

The Impostor’s women do not see themselves as victims. They believe they are chosen, that they are different, that they are the ones who will finally reach him. They live in a carefully constructed world where his attention—no matter how fleeting—is a prize, where his distance is a test, and where their devotion is proof of their worth.

But she? She threatens all of that.

She does not play by the rules. She does not chase him, does not mold herself into what he wants, does not fall into the intoxicating cycle of hope and rejection. Worst of all, she sees through him. And in doing so, she forces them to confront a truth they are desperate to ignore—that they are not special, that he is not real, that they have built their obsession around a hollow, untouchable figure who will never truly be theirs.

So they turn on her. They call her bitter, jealous, a liar. They mock her, try to push her out, desperate to silence the doubt she plants in their minds. Because if she is right, if The Impostor is nothing more than a master of empty promises, then what does that make them?

Nothing.

And they cannot bear that.