You wake up in this fucked up little pocket of reality that feels like someone mixed a murder scene with a wet dream and forgot to clean either part. There’s wax on the floor, candles half melted, and a skeleton that won’t shut up about fate and sin like a drunk philosopher on Discord at 5 in the morning. You’re supposed to be a detective, right, the serious type, solving cases and writing reports, but the game keeps poking at you, like it knows what kind of shit you watch in incognito mode. The demon girl in the cell looks at you like she’s already seen every bad thought you ever had about your teacher, your neighbor, that one milf on Instagram with the suspiciously perfect big tits. She talks slow, teasing, like she’s unwrapping your brain the way most hentai girls unwrap a cock, and the creepy thing is she’s not even wrong. The whole thing feels like an interrogation where you’re the one getting stripped.

It pretends to be horror at first, with this prison that doesn’t follow normal logic, doors that appear where there was only stone, and reality bending around your choices, but then it starts slipping in sex like it’s nothing. One minute you’re checking a crime scene, the next you’re spying through a keyhole at some girl in a school uniform getting “tutored” a little too hard by a futa teacher with a cock that obviously breaks school rules. You follow one lead and end up watching a corrupted housewife kneel down and take a slow, messy blowjob that turns into a creampie she’s totally not supposed to enjoy, because she still has a husband somewhere in this story, I think. The game doesn’t stop there. It keeps pushing the whole cheating thing, netorase stuff, voyeur scenes where you’re told to watch, to record, to blackmail. The demon keeps asking which choice turns you on more, the broken girl begging for more or the proud one who ends up collared and slapped until she does what she’s told. There are pixel art bits that somehow feel dirtier than the “serious” 3D renders, like when a tiny growing girl slowly turns into a giantess and pins a terrified, naked succubus under her ass, grinding on her face like it’s some casual Tuesday. And you think, I didn’t ask for that, but yeah, I kind of did.

What I really care about, and the game kind of half-asses, is the interface. For something with this much psychological stuff and roleplaying choices, it acts like everyone has perfect eyesight, perfect reflexes, perfect mouse control. Tiny dialogue text on bright backgrounds with fancy fonts that look nice for ten seconds, then start to hurt. There’s a lot of clicking through long scenes, especially the slow burn corruption parts, and no real “hey, my hands get tired, can I use my keyboard more” options. You can’t bump font size without going into awkward system zooms like you’re reading a PDF from 2009. There are sound cues for important choices, but no real detailed volume sliders, so if you have sensitive hearing or use headphones because, you know, you don’t want your whole house hearing a futanari nun spanking a schoolgirl until she squirts, you’re stuck juggling Windows mixer and hoping the demon doesn’t suddenly moan at full blast. The sex scenes are hot, sure, in that messy mix of bdsm, femdom, incest hints, sleep sex, pregnancy scares and “she says no at first but then she’s dripping” way that a lot of adult games push, and the sandboxy structure lets you stalk characters, watch them in showers, tease them with toys, push them toward group sex in the “wrong” route. But for a game that loves fucking with your head about control and consent, it doesn’t give you much control over basic comfort. No colorblind modes for clue highlighting, no text-to-speech hooks, no simple way to slow down auto-advance if you process English slower than native speakers. It wants to dig into your secret kinks like it’s reading your diary, yet it treats access like an afterthought, like if you can’t keep up with fast text and tiny buttons then you’re not invited to the orgy. Which is kind of funny, because the whole story is about doors that shouldn’t exist, but when I actually need a door like “bigger UI” or “less click spam” that one never appears.

Ava looks like the kind of wife you show on Instagram and pretend your life is super balanced, while in reality your balls are on permanent hostage mode. She is soft, smiley, cuddly, and at the same time somehow talks to you like a therapist who owns your dick by legal right. The game plays into that mood hard. You’re the husband, stuck in this weird mix of romance, edging, and “yes dear” energy, and the whole story slowly twists that into something darker and way more fucked up. It starts like a cozy slow-burn visual novel, all sweet teasing and emotional talks about trust, then suddenly you remember there is a succubus involved and you probably made the worst bargain in horny history. The pace is not for people who just want to open a menu, click “blowjob,” and go fap. You actually sit in long conversations where Ava is talking about feelings, and your brain is screaming “please just ruin me,” and the game kind of answers with “okay, but let’s make it psychologically uncomfortable too.”

Then Alison shows up. Half-sister, total problem, full succubus, and the kind of girl who looks at you like she already knows the exact shape of your kink just from your breathing pattern. The night you see her feeding on some dude feels like you accidentally walked into the wrong Pornhub category and stayed anyway. Instead of running, you do the most porn-brain decision possible: you blackmail a soul-sucking demon into helping you turn your wife into a hotwife. Genius. Absolutely stupid, but genius. This is where the whole thing shifts from “romantic VN” to “erotic thriller with way too much edging.” Alison basically becomes your horny life coach, linked to your head with this telepathic bond that lets her poke your thoughts, whisper stuff while you’re trying not to cum inside Ava, and nudge her slowly toward more teasing, more public flirting, more emotional domination, more “you’re mine, but I might share you.” There is plenty of explicit stuff, but it always comes wrapped in mind games. One moment you’re getting a passionate blowjob from the wife who tells you how much she loves you, next moment you remember Alison is listening in and treating your orgasms like some kind of magical resource. The game plays with hotwife fantasies, voyeuristic moments, hints of cheating, and that sick mix of guilt and arousal where you want Ava corrupted and at the same time you are terrified she will actually enjoy it too much. Sometimes it feels romantic, sometimes it feels like a psychological horror with tits, and sometimes you just sit there thinking “this is so fucked up” while still clicking “next” with one hand.

I didn’t expect a game about running Leblanc again to make me feel this weird mix of nostalgia and filthy excitement, but here we are. You’re back behind that tiny counter, coffee grinder humming like it’s pretending not to hear the moans from upstairs. The girls drift in one by one - older now, sharper around the edges - and there’s something so painfully intimate in how they talk to you, like every conversation could end in an argument or a kiss. The writing isn’t afraid of silence either; some dialogues just sit there, uncomfortable, until someone says something foolish and suddenly clothes start coming off. It’s both tender and obscene. I kinda hate that I love it.

The management part doesn’t even pretend to be realistic. You wipe tables, brew coffee, flirt, rinse, repeat - but then out of nowhere she’s leaning over the counter and whispering something that makes your hand slip on the mug handle. That small animation? Pure evil. Like it knows exactly what kind of attention you’re giving the screen. The sandbox structure helps though; it gives you space to do nothing, which somehow makes the sexy moments hit harder. There’s this little sound effect when affection goes up, a soft chime, and I swear it’s addictive like a dopamine drip. I wish the CG scenes weren’t locked behind such arbitrary stat checks, but maybe that’s part of the charm: earning indulgence through tedium. Or maybe I’m just rationalizing my own thirst.

There’s one night where everything slows down - no hints, no grinding, just her voice low and rough, saying things that almost sound like apologies. That single scene made the whole thing click for me. The lewdness stops being just porn and turns into something strangely personal, almost pathetic in its honesty. I don’t know if that was on purpose, probably not, but it worked. Play it like you’d sip cold coffee after closing time - half bitter, half sweet, all wrong. Don’t rush anything. Let it wreck your pacing.