This thing feels like getting locked inside your own lingerie closet with a guy who knows every bra you ever bought and why. The game throws you right into this late winter street, cold air, nasty yellow streetlight, and then he’s just there. Not some shiny anime prince, more like that quiet dude from the back of the bus who suddenly stares straight into you and says your name too softly. As a designer I kept imagining what I’d put on the main character, like a thin white slip with lace cups that really shows the curve of the nipples when she breathes hard, but honestly it almost doesn’t matter, because he’s stripping you in his head from line one. The whole thing is basically him wrapping himself around you with words, like a silk ribbon that looks cute but tightens more every time you try to pull away. He talks like you already belong to him, body, thoughts, all your tiny stupid habits, the way you bite your lip, what color panties you wore that one day you thought no one noticed. It’s creepy as hell and also stupidly hot in that way you don’t want to admit when you close your laptop and pretend you were just “testing” a game.

What I liked a lot, and then hated, and then liked again, is how the story keeps making you second-guess yourself. You pick a choice that feels strong, like “back off, I don’t know you,” and he twists it into proof you’re scared of losing him. Then you pick something gentler and suddenly you’re deep in his little fantasy nest, where he’s watching you sleep and talking about how your body twitches when you dream. There’s one moment where he describes how he “rescued” you, and it honestly reads like undressing a mannequin in a store window: precise, slow, obsessive. He remembers the fabric of your coat, the way your thighs looked under it, like he’s fitting you for a custom bondage set made only for being tied to his bed. I kept wanting more description of the actual surroundings, but he keeps dragging the focus back to you, like your skin is the background, your heartbeat is the soundtrack. It’s annoying, in a very good way, if that makes sense. And the game doesn’t baby you about consent either; it really plays in that dirty, fucked up space where “no” and “yes” almost melt and you have to watch yourself not to slip too far into his logic. It kind of feels like a lace thong that’s slightly too small: pretty, cutting into your hips, and you keep wearing it anyway because of how it makes your ass look in the mirror.

You start with this half-dead hotel that looks like it smells of cheap cleaner and old sex, and somehow it becomes this weird little universe where every floor has a different flavor of horny drama. It looks like a normal dating sim at first, like “oh yeah, I’ll just talk to the girls, raise some stats, classic stuff”, and then three scenes later you’re holding a trembling elf maid by the hips while she tries to act all proper and obedient and ends up squirting all over the new bedsheets you saved up to buy. And you’re thinking: ok, I just wanted romance, why is there a menu option for nipple clothespins in the housekeeping budget. But you still click it.

The hotel thing works too well. Everyone is under your roof, so you bump into them doing absolutely everything. You go into a hallway thinking you’re just going to check repairs, and you catch one girl “cleaning” a window with her tits pressed against the glass, tongue out, full ahegao, while someone down in the street could totally see her. It counts as voyeur and exhib stuff at the same time and the game doesn’t even wink at you, it just lets it happen, like yeah, this is just Tuesday here. You can be the pure romance guy and still the world keeps trying to corrupt you. There’s a religious girl praying in one scene, acting shy like a virgin, and later you’re there timing her orgasm denial with your phone while she begs for just one more thrust and you’re like, ok, maybe I’m not “pure” anymore. I kept telling myself I’m avoiding the nastier paths, and two minutes later I’m watching a lactation event where I was only trying to give comfort and suddenly there’s warm milk and a helpless girl calling you “master” in this shaky voice. Total accident. Kind of.

What really got me is how your role shifts without a big “you are a trainer now” sign. One moment you’re like a soft-spoken manager who buys cute maid outfits and simple cosplay ears, the next you’re running what is basically a private bdsm spa on the top floor, where you decide who gets the collar and who just gets spanked until their ass is bright red and they can’t sit in the café. Some girls push you around too, it’s not just male dom. There’s a yandere type that goes from clingy to “if you fuck anyone else I’ll break their legs” energy, and she rides you so hard you legit feel like the slave instead of the trainer. Then later the same night another girl kneels down in the lobby and gives you a slow, careful blowjob like it’s a love letter, and you remember why you came here for romance at all. But then there’s some fucked up family route on the side, anal stuff mixed with “we shouldn’t do this” whispers, a footjob in the laundry room, a titfuck in the elevator when the doors keep almost opening, group sex in a suite where everyone’s moaning your name at once, and somewhere in the middle of that mess you’re still checking income stats on your phone and thinking about upgrade costs like an idiot. The hotel keeps growing, the harem keeps getting bigger, some girls get their breasts reduced while others suddenly swell up like a fantasy elf breeding project, and you’re walking around your own building knowing exactly which room has a girl quietly masturbating, which one hides a camera for your voyeur habit, and which bed has fresh cum drying in the sheets because you didn’t even bother with pulling out after that last creampie. It’s romantic in the trashiest way, and trashy in a way that somehow still feels kind of sweet.