The story drops you right into a filthy mix of business, lust, and betrayal. You play this polished guy with a perfect life - high-rise view, loyal girl, kisses on the neck before work - but everything starts to rot the second your boss leans close with that “favor.” It starts simple, like anyone could talk their way out of it, but it’s the kind of request that turns into a trap. One look, one taste of what’s behind his smug smile and you start losing your grip. It’s not just about sex here, though there’s a lot of it - slow teasing, the kind that makes your pulse skip, then full-on raw scenes where control just dies. You feel the corruption crawl under your skin, and somehow you like it. The animations hit hard, the moans sound too real, and every little gesture feels like someone’s watching. Maybe they are, considering the voyeur angle that sneaks in halfway when you least expect it.

What’s strange is how the humor fucks with all the tension. There are moments you laugh right before something really depraved happens - like the devs know exactly how uncomfortable you’re getting. One girl cracks a joke mid-blowjob, and instead of killing the scene, it makes it hotter, nastier. The writing isn’t clean; it’s dirty and uneven, perfect for the kind of story it tells. You slip from one fantasy to another - cheating, swinging, the occasional slap across bare skin - and it never feels clean. The filth is part of the intimacy; the romance still breathes through it. And maybe that’s what makes this thing addictive. It’s not about collecting scenes or chasing endings, it’s about watching the main guy ruin himself piece by piece and pretending you’re not enjoying it too much. The way some of those girls look at him, you know they’re not innocent either. You might judge them, or maybe you’ll just keep watching, hand resting where it shouldn’t be.

I didn’t expect to care about the outfits so much. The first time Kaylan walks into that smoky cantina wearing something that looks halfway between a pilot’s jacket and a dominatrix vest, I actually paused. Like, *why* does this cheap little visual novel manage to make leather look expensive? Everyone else’s clothes seem one breath away from falling off - especially that Twi’lek bounty hunter with the split skirt that screams “fight me but also ruin me.” It’s ridiculous, yet it works. Maybe it’s because the lighting’s uneven, like someone forgot to polish the render - makes the skin look more real somehow, less glossy doll, more sweaty body after a chase scene. I kept thinking, “This shouldn’t be hot,” but it was.

The sound though - it’s weirdly good. Not the music (that’s just spacey hums and random drum hits), but the way the moans are layered under the blaster sounds, almost like they belong together. There’s this one oral scene in the ship’s medbay where the hum of the engine mixes with her breathing, and it’s… unnerving? I mean, I replayed it twice, so maybe not *that* unnerving. And then suddenly they throw in some heavy drama about betrayal and destiny, like I didn’t just watch someone get pinned against a console five seconds ago. It’s jarring, but kind of perfect. You’re half turned on, half emotionally confused, which might be the point - or maybe the devs just didn’t plan it that way. Hard to tell.

What bugs me is the hair physics. I know, weird thing to fixate on when everyone’s naked half the time, but still. Her braid clips through his shoulder right when things get intense, and I can’t unsee it. Yet I’d still call it romantic, in that messy, sweaty, “we might die in hyperspace” sort of way. The whole thing feels like fanfiction that got drunk and decided to grow up. I’m not sure if I love it or if it just caught me off guard, but I haven’t closed the tab yet.

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.

The first time I logged into this thing, I didn’t even care about the classes or whatever plot it pretends to have - the way the avatars breathe, the tiny tremor in their lips before a kiss, that’s what got me. It’s like the devs poured all their soul into making skin look touchable. There’s this one girl in a half-armored cosplay outfit, silver hair glowing like some digital eclipse, and when she leans close, her breath fogs your screen. Maybe I imagined that, but hell, it felt real. The sci-fi cities behind her hum like they’re alive, something between a nightclub and a dream you shouldn’t be having. The game doesn’t shout about its mechanics, but when you figure out how to sync movement and body sensors, it’s almost too much - like your nerves are being rewritten to crave every vibration.

Sometimes the story pretends to be about mystery - a missing player, a corrupted zone - but nobody’s really fooling anyone. The real puzzle is how long you can last before giving in to pure heat. The VR immersion slips between sweet and filthy faster than your mind can keep up; one moment you’re chatting with a student NPC about history, next she’s on her knees, glasses sliding down, eyes wide like she’s learning anatomy for the first time. There’s group stuff too, awkward at first until it’s not. Someone mentioned modders replaced the background drones with moaning echoes; I laughed until it happened in my session and I swear it made everything feel more chaotic and alive. The music, though? Too clean. Needs something grittier, maybe a heartbeat instead of these sterile synths.

I still can’t get over the fact that clothing physics act like they’ve got personalities - skirts that refuse to stay where they should, latex that remembers your touch. You can taste the future here, but it’s messy and dripping and maybe a bit too honest. Every time I log out, reality feels thinner, like a veil that won’t settle right.