This isn’t a BL or GL, so if that’s what you’re after, skip it.
Ninety-six chapters in, and it’s… not bad. The male lead is a yandere, emotionally manipulative, pushy about his feelings, not above lying, and utterly disrespectful of boundaries. He’s a walking red flag the size of Russia. If you like your yanderes steeped in emotional blackmail rather than blood, you’ll probably enjoy the vivid crimson of his flag.
The story itself is decent, but the romance misses the mark, not because of the ML who plays his yandere role well, but because of the FL. Despite his manipulative tendencies, the ML has a soft, sweet side that could naturally win her over. Unfortunately, the author rarely uses that angle, instead relying on his physical aggression to spark her feelings. It’s ironic, she ends up embodying the smutty BL personality trope her brother was meant to have, except the author and the story don’t seem to realize it. As a result, her love feels shallow and reactionary, which undercuts what could have been a far more compelling emotional dynamic.
The FL makes decisions that, in reality, would have catastrophic political and military consequences, and other characters often flag them as “too risky.” Yet the story always frames these risks as necessary, the only option, or inherently the right choice simply because the FL said so. Her moral idealism frequently clashes with the harsh realities of leadership, where trying to save everyone usually comes at a greater cost. Still, the narrative portrays her decisions as smart and bold, and everything just seems to work out with no real political consequences. This erases tension and undermines the stakes of leadership and political realism.
It’s frustrating because the story starts strong. In early chapters, the FL’s struggle to care for her family, particularly her little brother, gives the narrative emotional weight and establishes her vulnerability to the ML’s emotional manipulation. This foundation makes her later “catastrophic political and military choices” emotionally understandable, as she acts out of fear of losing those she loves. However, once she begins making risky decisions as a leader, the story fails to explore the real consequences of her actions. People still die, no matter how hard a leader tries to protect them, yet the narrative tosses out this reality to uphold the FL’s moral “no killing” ideology, framing her choices as perfectly right with no truly devastating consequences. This erases the lesson that even good intentions can’t save everyone and leans heavily into the “FL is always right” trope, undermining tension, realism, and the complexity of her moral growth.
Verdict:
Let’s Hide My Little Brother starts with moral depth and strong emotional stakes but trades them for unnecessary romantic clichés and plot armor. Read it for the manipulative yandere drama, not for the plot or the FL’s character growth.