The first person the Deceiver questioned was a baker.
Not because she was important.
Because she wasn't.
Power attracted attention.
Ordinary people revealed truth.
The bakery remained warm despite the rain outside. The scent of fresh bread drifted through the small shop while customers came and went throughout the morning.
The woman behind the counter looked up as a well-dressed stranger entered.
Beautiful.
Polite.
Forgettable.
The sort of face people remembered differently afterward.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
"Hopefully."
The stranger smiled pleasantly.
"I've heard District Nine has changed considerably."
"It has."
"And why do you think that is?"
The baker immediately snorted.
"Loaded question."
Interesting.
The stranger purchased coffee.
Waited.
Eventually the woman shrugged.
"People started fixing things."
"People?"
She rolled her eyes.
"You know exactly who people mean."
The stranger smiled.
"Perhaps."
The baker folded her arms.
"Look, I'm not saying Lord Malachai is a saint."
"No?"
"Heavens no."
The stranger waited.
The baker pointed toward the window.
"My heating works."
"..."
"My roof doesn't leak."
"..."
"Crime dropped."
"..."
"My customers stopped getting mugged."
The baker shrugged.
"I judge people on results."
The stranger nodded thoughtfully.
"Interesting."
Very interesting.
---
Elsewhere, Elara discovered the consequences of local popularity.
Namely:
Children.
They were everywhere.
And they asked questions.
Endless questions.
The little girl from before sat atop a park bench while Elara occupied the opposite side like a condemned prisoner awaiting judgment.
The child tilted her head.
"Do villains get birthdays?"
Elara blinked.
"...Yes."
"Oh."
The girl considered this carefully.
"What do villain birthday parties look like?"
Elara genuinely had no answer.
Fortunately, Hex appeared.
Unfortunately, Hex appeared.
"Cake."
The girl brightened.
"Really?"
"No."
The girl looked disappointed.
"Most villain birthdays involve dramatic lighting and emotional trauma."
Elara pinched the bridge of her nose.
"That is not true."
"It is statistically true."
"Where are you getting these statistics?"
Hex looked offended.
"The villain community newsletter."
The child gasped.
"There is a villain newsletter?"
"There are quarterly reviews."
Elara closed her eyes.
The girl stared in wonder.
"...Villains sound organized."
"That," Hex declared dramatically, "is because Lord Malachai has standards."
---
Several districts away, a younger hero was having an existential crisis.
The cause sat directly in front of him.
A retired hero.
Two retired villains.
A former mercenary.
And one elderly woman who had once attempted to conquer part of Europe.
They were playing cards.
Together.
"How are you all friends?"
The room became silent.
The retired villain looked confused.
"We're not."
"You have dinner together."
"Occasionally."
"You attend birthdays."
"Only important ones."
"You go fishing together."
"That doesn't count."
The younger hero pointed accusingly.
"How does that not count?!"
The retired hero sighed.
"Kid."
"What?"
The old man placed a card onto the table.
"After you've saved the world together three times and nearly destroyed it twice, things get complicated."
The younger hero looked horrified.
The retired villain looked sympathetic.
"You'll understand when you're older."
That was somehow worse.
---
Elsewhere, Nyxara sat across from Solin beneath the outdoor seating area of a small café.
Rain tapped softly against nearby awnings.
The hero looked tired.
The villain looked amused.
Everything was normal.
Which made it deeply abnormal.
A younger Guild hero nearly walked into a lamp post after recognizing them.
Nyxara sipped her drink.
"They're staring again."
"They always stare."
"They're getting worse."
Solin sighed.
"Last week someone asked if I'd been kidnapped."
"You should've said yes."
"You literally bought me lunch."
"That doesn't prove anything."
The younger hero continued staring from half a block away.
Nyxara waved cheerfully.
The poor man nearly fell over.
"You're enjoying this."
"Immensely."
Solin rubbed his forehead.
"You are impossible."
"And yet here you are."
Nearby civilians ignored them completely.
Apparently District Nine had collectively reached the conclusion that hero-villain couples were less concerning than rent increases.
---
Captain Vale encountered the aftermath later.
The younger hero found her immediately.
"I saw Nyxara and Solin together."
Vale blinked.
"Okay."
"They were on a date."
"Yes."
The younger hero stared.
"That's your response?"
Vale frowned.
"...They've been together for years."
"...What?"
"Years."
The younger hero looked deeply betrayed by reality.
"Nobody told me."
Vale walked away.
"We tried."
---
Far from the city, hidden within shadows and stolen archives, dozens of screens illuminated the darkness.
The Deceiver watched.
The baker.
The child.
Elara.
Nyxara.
Solin.
Retired heroes.
Retired villains.
District Nine.
Every connection.
Every attachment.
Every relationship.
Slowly.
Patiently.
The pattern grew clearer.
Not institutions.
Not governments.
Not organizations.
People.
The era's stability rested on people.
Messy.
Contradictory.
Human connections.
A hero dating a villain.
A dark lord helping civilians.
A masked Void Princess talking to children.
Retired enemies sharing card games.
The Deceiver stared thoughtfully at the web forming across countless screens.
Then another file appeared.
One recovered from decades ago.
Malachai.
Laughing with friends.
Heroes.
Villains.
Civilians.
All in the same photograph.
The Deceiver became very still.
Then smiled.
Not because they found a weakness.
Because they found the answer.
"Ah."
The word echoed softly through the darkness.
A hand reached forward.
The image enlarged.
Connection after connection after connection.
A web.
An anchor.
A family.
The smile widened slightly.
"Now I understand."
And for the first time since beginning their investigation—
the Deceiver stopped studying the past.
And began planning for the future.