I think the most interesting fake heroes are the ones whose performance cracks. They're playing a role so intensely that the strain shows, and that gap between the projected image and the crumbling reality underneath is where the real story happens. Take Severus Snape from the 'Harry Potter' series—here's a man whose entire persona for years was built on being the most reviled, untrustworthy figure in the wizarding world, all to serve a greater loyalty. He wasn't faking being unpleasant, but he was faking his allegiance to Voldemort so completely that even the audience is kept in the dark. What makes that compelling isn't just the twist, it's the tiny moments of leakage: the sheer venom in his voice when he protects the students in 'The Half-Blood Prince', the way he withholds crucial information about the prophecy until the last possible second, saving Harry in the process. The narrative weight comes from understanding he lived every single day in that agonizing double-blind, and his heroism was a secret he died with.
Modern storytelling often uses this device to question what heroism even means. Is it the public act, or the private sacrifice? A character like Kaz Brekker from 'Six of Crows' is introduced as a ruthless, amoral thief. His 'heroism' is entirely transactional and self-serving on the surface. Yet, the compelling part is how his meticulously crafted persona of cold indifference—the fake hero who is, by all accounts, a villain—slowly develops real, protective edges for his crew. He never stops being morally gray and manipulative, but the fakeness of his complete lack of care becomes the very thing that defines his genuine, flawed loyalty. The audience gets the thrill of being in on the secret before the other characters are, watching the mask slip in private moments of vulnerability or rage when a team member is threatened. It turns the hero's journey inward, making it a psychological unraveling rather than a public triumph.