What stands out most in Volume 3 is how Motomi uses comedy as a release valve rather than a distraction. The banter between Teru and Kurosaki is sharper here, full of the kind of prickly affection that makes their dynamic so much fun to watch develop. Yet underneath the jokes, the volume keeps circling back to grief. Teru’s memories of her late brother Soichiro remain the emotional backbone of the story, and this installment digs a little further into why his death still shapes everything she does, including her instinct to trust a stranger’s texts over almost anyone standing in front of her.

Art wise, Motomi’s linework continues to serve the tone well. Expressions are exaggerated just enough for comedic beats without undercutting the quieter, more vulnerable panels, and the pacing between chapters feels confident rather than rushed.

If there’s a knock against Volume 3, it’s that a couple of side characters still feel underused, mostly there to nudge the plot rather than exist as people in their own right. That’s a minor complaint against a volume that otherwise does exactly what a strong middle chapter should, raising questions, deepening bonds, and making the eventual reveal of Kurosaki’s identity feel like it’s going to hurt in the best possible way.

For readers already invested in Teru and Kurosaki’s story, Volume 3 is easy to recommend, and it’s proof that Dengeki Daisy is only getting more confident as it goes.