You wake up in this “clinic” that looks less like a hospital and more like some rich asshole’s idea of rehab, and right away you feel something’s off. They keep calling you “patient” and acting like you volunteered, but the main guy literally says your sponsor signed you in because you “couldn’t handle yourself.” Which is bullshit, by the way. First thing that hits you is how quiet everything is. No TV in your room, no phone, no Discord, nothing, just white walls and a schedule you never asked for. Then she walks in: your counselor. Fake warm smile, soft voice, tight blouse, older than you but not old, definitely knows how her body looks when she leans over the desk. She talks like she cares about your “recovery,” but every question feels like she already decided the answer and just waits for you to say it wrong so she can “correct” you. You think it’s just another boring VN at first, like yeah yeah, talk about your problems, pick the good little boy dialogue. Then she slides this “reflection form” over, with options that are basically “admit you’re broken” or “prove you need more treatment,” and you realize the game’s not letting you be neutral. Everything you say gets twisted. You tell her you’re fine and she smiles, writes something on her tablet, and boom: next session your clothing options in the wardrobe suddenly changed.

That wardrobe thing pissed me off more than it should. First day you’ve got your normal clothes: hoodie, jeans, basic stuff. Then after she “adjusts your therapy plan,” the casual wear menu has these softer tops, smaller sizes, things that look like they’d cling in the wrong places. And the game doesn’t scream “HEY LOOK YOU’RE CHANGING,” it just quietly replaces the old shit. You only notice because you try to put on the hoodie again and it’s just gone. I spent way too long clicking around that stupid closet, expecting it to pop back up if I backed out, like it was a bug, but no, this is on purpose. Same thing with the “mindfulness exercises.” At the start it’s boring breathing stuff, then suddenly the audio script has you “imagining your body becoming smoother, lighter, softer” like it’s some harmless relaxation tape. After you listen a couple times, your reflection in the bathroom mirror looks a tiny bit different, but nobody comments, not even the MC, which somehow makes it creepier. And the counselor acts like all this is perfectly normal. She starts calling you by these pet names, praises you when you pick the submissive options, and when you push back she doesn’t punish you directly, she just “recommends additional medication.” You wake up after “group therapy” and your voice lines read a little more shy, more unsure, like the game itself is rewriting how you talk. The older women in charge clearly enjoy watching you squirm, especially when they walk you through “behavioural practice” that is just code for them making you perform in front of them, and you can tell the whole place is basically one big machine meant to take a messed up dude and turn him into exactly what they want. The wild part is you start catching yourself choosing the more humiliating answers on purpose, just to see how far they’ll push you, then pretending you hate it, while still clicking “continue” like an idiot.