This Korashime sequel... it's like a discount perfume, familiar scent, but something's just *off*.
We got Manabu, strict as a starving wolf guarding its kill, trying to whip a department store into shape. His mistake? Not realizing the female staff is less a team, more like a viper pit in heels. Enter his ex, Maya, power-hungry as a cat on a hot tin roof, who orchestrates his downfall with a sexual harassment claim. It's a classic noir setup, betrayal dripping from every silk scarf and nametag.
Manabu's revenge is less straightforward than you'd expect. He's got dirt on everyone: The elevator girl, Ayako, all cheeky bravado until her stalker's caught on camera. There's Honami, his stepsister, more comfortable with women, but carrying a torch for Manabu like it's the Olympic flame.
The problem is, the "punishment" is where it gets messy. Imagine a high school sex ed class run by a disgruntled gym teacher with a video camera and a mean streak. It's uncomfortable, exploitative, and kinda sad.
Irony rears its ugly head - Manabu might be "teaching them a lesson," but he's just as caught in the web of desire and manipulation. The setting, this once grand department store, becomes a stage for their twisted desires, the mannequins silent witnesses to the whole sordid affair.
Honestly, it left me feeling less like I'd watched something titillating, and more like I'd stumbled out of a smoky backroom poker game, pockets empty and soul a little dirtier.
Loading comments...