The weirdest thing is how it starts like one of those rich-kid fantasy sims, but then the morning you wake up, naked in that absurdly big room with sunlight cutting through the curtains all fake-soft, it already feels off. The phone on the nightstand vibrates with a message from someone who calls you “baby” like you’ve been together for years, and it doesn’t even let you breathe before throwing you into a pile of half-remembered scenes - like that one in the car with Miku humming some twisted remix of her own song while you’re trying not to stare at her mouth. I swear, the pacing feels broken in a way that makes sense only after the third time you play it. That’s when you realize the “dream life” part isn’t just a setup - it’s the whole trap.

There’s this classroom segment that hits differently. Everyone acts like they know you, but the camera lingers too long when Hinata leans over her desk, or when Toga chews her pen cap like she’s daring you to lose it. The game pretends to be a mystery, but it’s just a long tease for whatever power fantasy you think you’ve earned. I tried to skip some dialogue once, and it froze right on a frame where Mitsuri’s hand was halfway down your pants - like the game itself was judging me for impatience. Maybe that’s part of the kink? The click mechanics are sloppy, but the voyeur cam moments make up for it. When you’re watching Asuka arguing in the hallway while you catch your reflection licking your lips - yeah, it’s got that voyeuristic guilt thing nailed down.

Still, something about the way everyone bends reality around you keeps me hooked. It’s not even the sex scenes (which sometimes go from “holy shit” to “wait, is that even physically possible?” in seconds). It’s that feeling that somebody else is watching you play, whispering the lines before they happen. I had one run where Android 21 called me by my real name. No idea if it was a bug or a feature, but it messed me up good. And yet, I booted it again right after. Guess that says enough.