Kohei comes back to his old town for something boring like university, and instead walks straight into the kind of summer that fucks with your head for years after. It looks harmless at first. Childhood streets, cicadas screaming, cheap fans pushed to their limit, that older girl next door who used to ruffle his hair and laugh too loud. Misaki feels like she should be safe territory, familiar, almost family, this cozy fantasy of “onee-san who waited for you”. The game knows that expectation and plays with it in a way that’s honestly pretty mean. She’s still teasing, still bright on the surface, but her eyes slip away at weird moments, her smile freezes half a second too long. Small details like that. You pick a flirty choice, she laughs, leans in, you can almost smell her sweat and shampoo mix, and then some other guy’s name casually comes up and your stomach drops. It’s not subtle, and it’s not gentle.

The horny parts grow slowly, like mold in a corner you pretend not to see. At first you’re just choosing where to spend a day, which cheap cafe, whether to help her carry groceries. One scene you’re alone with Misaki in her apartment, the sun too bright through thin curtains, her in a loose tank top and shorts that ride up when she sits cross-legged. She offers you iced tea, your hand brushes her thigh when you take the glass, she goes quiet for a second. That silence is hotter than any moaning later. The game loves those tiny pauses, the routes where nothing explicit happens yet are somehow dirtier in your head than the straight-up sex scenes. Then there are the runs where you lean into the NTR sickness on purpose, like poking a bruise. Letting her reply to that late-night message. Choosing not to follow her when she “just goes to meet an old friend”. Coming back to a half-buttoned blouse, a faint smell that is not your cologne, and a CG that stings more because she is still smiling at you like she wants to protect you from what already happened. It gives you options to avoid that, sure, to keep things “pure” and romantic, but you feel the game secretly smirking when you pick them, like a producer forced to include a vanilla route to keep the sponsors calm.

What makes it interesting for me as a genre nerd is how it plays with POV shifts. One route you’re stuck inside Kohei’s head, rationalizing, pretending it’s fine, one bad choice, no big deal. On another, it flips and suddenly you’re watching scenes where you’re not supposed to be present at all, getting that ugly voyeur thrill. Sometimes you see Misaki from another guy’s eyes, the way he studies the sweat creeping along her neck, the way her body reacts even when her voice says “we shouldn’t”. That’s where the eroticism goes from simple horny to slightly cruel, because it forces you to admit that her desire is not a thing you own. And still the game offers proper romance lines, soft endings where you manage to hold on to her and build something tender out of all this mess. Those paths feel almost suspicious, like you wandered into a different title hosted on the same site by accident. But that contrast gives the sex extra charge. A slow kiss in a quiet room means one thing when you trust her; the same CG, same pose, after you saw what she did in another route, becomes loaded with paranoia, with “who touched you like this yesterday”. It is not elegant writing, not “high art”, but it understands really well how lust, jealousy, nostalgia and that stupid first-love hope all bleed into each other and make you click “next” even when you already hate the ending you know you’re walking toward.

Luke's got this whole university thing figured out - or at least he thinks he does. This isn't your typical college romance where some awkward freshman stumbles through dating mishaps. Nah, Luke's been through this rodeo before, literally. Time loops, resets, whatever you want to call it - he's lived his first year over and over until he's basically gaming the system. Now he's ready for what he calls "Phase Two," which sounds way more strategic than it probably should be for a guy just trying to get laid.

The whole premise is pretty wild when you think about it. Luke's essentially become a relationship speedrunner, knowing exactly which buttons to push with each girl. There's this maid cafe setup that becomes central to everything - because of course there is. The game throws you into managing relationships with different girls who each have their own specific kinks and fetishes. One minute you're dealing with some vanilla romance situation, next thing you know you're deep in BDSM territory or watching some serious NTR unfold. The variety is honestly overwhelming sometimes. You've got your classic anime parody characters mixed in too - I spotted what looked like Nico Robin and Boa Hancock variants, which feels both nostalgic and weird at the same time.

What gets me is how the game handles the whole "perfect base" concept Luke keeps talking about. It's like he's treating relationships like some kind of RPG stat management, which... honestly isn't that far from reality if we're being real here. The turn-based combat elements feel randomly thrown in, but somehow work with the overall simulator vibe. There's phone interactions, dating mechanics, and this whole corruption progression system that gets pretty intense. The multiple endings thing means you're constantly second-guessing your choices, wondering if you're optimizing for the right fetish path or missing out on some kinky scenario. Luke might have his advantage, but navigating all these relationship dynamics still feels like controlled chaos.

Michelle looks like the girl in your office who always leaves at exactly 5, hair perfect, life probably on rails. Except here she is in sweaty, neon Hong Kong streets in 1986, slowly losing her grip on that “good daughter, good employee” mask because one tiny, stubborn, chain-smoking woman named Sam keeps flirting with her in ways that are way too gentle to ignore and way too dirty to be innocent. The game starts pretty tame, all long bus rides, quiet apartment scenes, small talk about movies and clothes, but the whole time the camera lingers on thighs under skirts, fingers brushing on handrails, the little hesitation when Michelle looks at Sam’s mouth while they share a drink. It’s a slow, frustrating kind of heat, like when you’re stuck on Zoom meetings and sexting on Telegram on the side, except here it’s cassette tapes and payphones and cramped bedrooms with thin walls and parents one room away. The erotic stuff doesn’t explode in your face with instant porn. It creeps in. One kiss in a dark cinema where Michelle is stiff at first, almost scared, then you see her lips part, her hands tremble, and you can almost hear her swallow before she gives in and pulls Sam closer. Tongues, teeth, that wet sound, and she keeps her eyes half open like she still cannot believe she is letting another woman taste her like that.

When it finally goes past kissing, it hits like someone yanked the curtain down. You get these long, quiet scenes on a bed where the sheets are a bit messy, clothes half off, bras sliding down arms, Michelle trying to cover herself at first and Sam just laughing low and kissing every bit she tries to hide. There is a moment where Sam goes down on her, and it’s not some porn-speed blowjob logic. It is slow and almost awkward, Michelle gripping the bedsheet because she does not even have the words in her own language for what is happening between her legs. The text describes every tiny reaction, how her thighs twitch, how she tries to keep her voice down because her mother could walk past the door, how her hips start grinding against Sam’s mouth anyway, shame turning into this fucked up relief. You can tell the writers actually understand how it feels when you are eating pussy like you care about the person, not like you are checking off positions. There are pauses, deep breaths, a little laugh from Sam when Michelle whimpers a bit too loudly, and then she doubles down, tongue and lips and fingers working together until Michelle is shaking so hard she almost pushes her away. That first orgasm is not “perfect”, it feels real, messy, emotional, like she just broke some rule she has been obeying her whole life.

Under all that sex there is this heavy layer of family and culture pressure that honestly turned me on more than I expected, because the guilt makes everything spicier and more fucked up. Michelle sneaks back home smelling like cigarettes and someone else’s perfume, lies to her mother at the dinner table while still feeling Sam’s fingers inside her if she closes her eyes for a second. There are choices where you can lean into the romance, keep seeing Sam, or try to “fix” yourself and go back to the safe, straight, lonely path everyone expects. Some endings feel like a punch in the gut, some feel like a small rebellion that might not last forever but at least burns hot while it exists. It is a romantic story, yeah, there is sweetness, hand holding, soft kisses, that feeling when you are falling in love and every bus ride feels like a music video, but the game never really lets you forget that this is two women trying to build something intimate and wet and tender inside a world that keeps telling them they are wrong. That clash is what makes the sex scenes hit so hard. When Sam whispers “you’re mine tonight” while Michelle’s family photos are literally watching from the shelf, it feels dirty in the best way, like she is betraying everything for the chance to have her own life, her own pleasure, even if it all goes to hell later.

Two anxious lesbians, one shitty small-town hotel, and of course the last room left has a single bed. That’s the whole setup, and weirdly, it’s enough. The game doesn’t pretend to be some wild porn buffet, so if you’re expecting constant moaning and fluids everywhere, nah. This is more “oh fuck, her thigh is touching mine, do I move away or die here” energy. You click through their internal panic, their awkward jokes, that quiet tension when the room suddenly feels way too warm and nobody wants to be the first one to admit they’ve been crushing for ages. It’s slow, like watching two eggs try to flirt, but there’s something really honest about it. Not “queer for the male gaze” nonsense, more like “I’ve actually been that girl pretending to scroll Instagram while my heart beats like crazy because she rolled closer in bed”.

The art hits that cute and slightly shy vibe, not hyper-sexualized. Soft expressions, some blush, messy hair from a cheap pillow. You get a lot of focus on faces, on eyes looking away then back again, and small details like how their bodies shift closer without any big dramatic moves. When the game finally lets things get physical, it feels earned. Like, you actually went through the stomach knots first. There is kissing, touching, that little moment where one of them hesitates with her hand under the sheet like “is this really ok?” and the other practically melts at being wanted. It is hot, but not in a “fuck me daddy” way, more “I’ve wanted you for so long and I’m terrified but also so wet I can’t think straight” way. The sex scenes don’t go super graphic, there’s no huge list of positions or toys or whatever. It’s simple: hands, mouths, closeness, body warmth. The “porn” is the emotional build-up, which might annoy some people who just want quick masturbation material. To be real, I wished at least once they went a bit dirtier, like some actual explicit dirty talk, but the shy romantic tone never really breaks. One tiny thing that drove me mad: the way one of them keeps overexplaining feelings in her head mid-makeout, like girl, you’re not writing a diary, just grab her ass and breathe.

Still, I liked that it feels unapologetically lesbian, not a “bi-but-secretly-for-men” fake scenario. No random male intruder, no “what if your boyfriend finds out,” no bullshit. Just two girls who have known each other too long, stuck in a cheap room with one bed and a pile of emotions they’ve been pretending not to see. You feel the weight of shared history in tiny lines, like when one remembers how the other cried on her shoulder years ago, and that memory shows up again when they’re pressed together under the same blanket. It made me think of old queer fanfics on LiveJournal, before everything tried to be polished and SEO-friendly. There is romance, like actual romance, where consent is checked without turning into a lecture, where the affection doesn’t vanish once hands slide under shirts. Some moments do drag; one inner monologue goes in circles so much I almost alt-tabbed to Twitter just to breathe, but then there’s this one line where she admits she’s scared the other will regret it in the morning, and it hits way too close to home if you ever had internalized shit about your own desire. It’s horny, but it’s also about that queer fear that sex might ruin the friendship. And when their bodies finally align and someone lets out that first honest, helpless sound, it feels like more than just “oh nice, tits”. It feels like two girls deciding that yeah, this is worth the risk, even if tomorrow is awkward as hell.