This is a story like a wolf in sheep's clothing. The synopsis draws images of a playful harem; the embodiment of Japanese cliché with an embarrassed but perverted protagonist and several brainless beauties surrounding him. You can tell otherwise from the first seconds of film. Be it the muted music, the monotone narration of our solemn main character, or the efficient and bland description of our premise, we're instantly hit with something entirely unexpected. And, as the show continues, and we continue to peel back the layers of our characters, discovering more about this mysterious world we've discovered, we find a thoughtful and pondering piece of media with near perfect execution.

One of the most impressive aspects of this show is the tone. From the very beginning, they find one and stick to it. Each carefully placed, immaculately framed shot lends to the slow feeling (even though the plot moves quite quickly). Every drawn out, ominous beeping of the fax machine spreads a layer of darkness behind the otherwise neutral setting. And every line of dialogue tells of the no-nonsense, to-the-point feeling which embodies our main character. Even the comedy, sparse as it may be, feels solemn and dull. It's clear, from the very beginning, that our protagonist is drifting, though we do not yet know why.

The greatest purpose of a show can be to convey feelings or ideas which cannot be so aptly expressed by a bundle of words or a collection of phrases. Like music, and art, and poetry, television has the power to show you things which you can only see through the lens of a story. And, within these stories, writers and directors, costumers and set designers find small places to drop symbolism and meaning, things which start out as background details but evolve into a greater depiction of all that the story represents. The forever wrinkled suit worn by the main character. The unexplained death threats which continuously appear in the fax machine, and the unspoken habit of the girls to silently throw them out as they enter and exit the room. That cat which is simply named "cat," and it's presence over time. The dying flower plants outside of a grieving mother's home.

No story is complete without compelling characters, and this cast is diverse and complex. Each character has their own backstories, motivations, and personalities. From the tear-evoking brotherhood between the author and his devoted publisher, to the jealous hatred of his rival, to the always unclear affection from the residents of his house. Although the side characters and villains are stagnant, the main cast evolves throughout the show, affected by their circumstances and each other. Each heavy past is barely revealed, leaving more room for who that person is now, and who they'll become when it all ends. And it's clear, from the very start, that it will all end eventually.

A harem is something which is difficult to balance while maintaining unique, driven characters (especially ones with typical morals). This may be why the romance of the show is often left by the wayside, but I think it's also an intentional aspect of the main character's healing. That said, one of my only criticisms of the show is that some of the girl's affection for the main character seems a bit forced and unexplained, and only for a few of the girls do their feelings make sense. If we choose to think of the premise simply as a catalyst for the events and arcs of the story, then I don't think the show even qualifies to be a harem, as the girls don't openly and simultaneously show affection for the mc, and the mc shows no reciprocation either, even commenting at one point that he doesn't feel capable of love.

A harem was never the true focus of the show. It's not difficult to imagine it only as ploy to get it pitched and green lit, but boy are we lucky that it was. Because what we got was something truly unique, with so much to say that I couldn't begin to say it. It's a story of loss, a story of love. A story of power, and corruption. A story of pain, and acceptance. Fear, failure, and success. A story of someone broken by his circumstances, with a face visibly absent of emotion. A story which follows him, heals him, and then breaks him again, until finally, at the very end, when he sheds a tear. With the weight of all his pain. I recommend this show.