There’s something oddly tender about this game, though I can’t tell if it’s the way Yumi bites her lip when she’s unsure, or the way the light hits her skin during those scenes in the office - too perfect to be real, almost like a dream someone remembers wrong. The first time she bends over that photocopier, I actually laughed, not because it was funny but because it felt *too much*. But then again, that’s kind of the charm here: excess pretending to be sincerity. The story flows like spilled wine - messy, warm, sticky in places you don’t expect. And I swear, the sound of her breathing in one of the early CGs is mixed so close it feels like the mic was inside her throat. Weirdly intimate. It made me uncomfortable, and then very much not uncomfortable.

Some people online say it’s a corruption story, but it doesn’t really feel that way; it’s more like watching a slow accident, except everyone wants the crash. Thompson’s voice acting hits this ridiculous middle ground between sleazy and fatherly, which somehow *works.* There’s a moment where he compliments Yumi’s handwriting and you already know what’s coming next, but the pacing draws it out until you start begging for the inevitable. That’s good direction, whether they meant it or not. I hated the dialogue box though - it flickers when you click too fast and kills the tension. Oh, and the coffee cup on Will’s desk? Always empty. Drives me insane. Why render something so beautifully and forget the coffee?

By the time Yumi starts touching herself in the bathroom scenes - half guilt, half curiosity - you stop thinking about the plot. It’s like watching someone rewrite their own moral code line by line while a jazz track loops softly behind. That saxophone solo doesn’t fit and yet, I couldn’t imagine the scene without it. The romance feels fake, the sex feels real, which is backwards but honest. I think that’s why I kept replaying it.