The sun filtered gently through the loft's light curtains, casting golden gleams on Aru's skin. Kio sat behind him, his arms around his waist, his warm breath brushing the back of Aru's neck.
They remained like that, motionless, lulled by the rare calm of a morning without emergencies.
"Do you think we'll hold on?" Aru murmured,
his voice hesitant. Kio squeezed a little tighter, as if to convey his strength.
"We have no choice. Because we're no longer afraid."
Aru turned slowly, placing his hands on Kio's cheeks.
"I'm afraid. I'm afraid the world will crush us. That the people we love will turn their backs on us."
The following days were pure hell. NOX, the platform they had launched with such hope, was overwhelmed by a wave of orchestrated hatred. Trolls, funded by conservative groups, poured out a torrent of virulent comments. The threats multiplied. The mainstream media treated them like pariahs. Several business partners broke their contracts. Anonymous calls harassed Kio and Aru day and night.
That morning, Aru received an anonymous package at his workplace. A thick envelope containing stolen photos, handwritten insults, and a clear threat: "Stop or you'll pay the price."
He felt his blood run cold. That everything we build will crumble. Kio captured his lips in a tender, soothing kiss.
"So we build on fear. Because fear pushes us to be more real. Braver. More whole." Aru let out a sigh, then smiled weakly
"You always have the answer, don't you?"
"Because I've learned to listen. You, especially."
They stay like that, in this fragile but true bubble, before the calls start again, the messages pile up, the outside world reminds us of its presence.
But for that stolen moment, there was nothing but their breath, their bodies, and the silent promise to never leave each other alone. Kio, for his part, faced a heated meeting with the board of directors.
His father had increased the pressure to abandon Aru and end NOX. But Kio, in a firm voice, had refused. When they returned to the loft, they found themselves exhausted, worn out, but still standing.
"They want us to give up," Aru murmured
placing the photos on the table.
"But they don't know who they're dealing with," Kio replied, squeezing his hand.
Their intimacy was no longer a refuge, but a fight. They embraced for a long time, then Aru rested his head on Kio's shoulder.
"I don't know how long I'll last."
"As long as I'm here, you will," Kio promised.
The war had only just begun.
The day after that exhausting night, Aru and Kio awoke with renewed determination. They knew the attacks were about to escalate, and they had no choice but to respond intelligently.
At dawn, Aru scanned the latest data: an interactive threat map, detailing the origins of troll accounts, attack times, and sites spreading fake news.
Using his cybersecurity skills, he quickly identified patterns: some servers were linked to old acquaintances from his professional past.
"Look at this," he whispered to Kio,pointing at the screen displaying IP addresses and servers abroad.
"We can trace this." Kio nodded, staring at the numbers intently.
" I'll contact my lawyers. Prepare evidence. Together, we can file complaints for invasion of privacy, defamation, and organized harassment. "
Their plan fell into place with almost surgical efficiency. Aru wrote clear reports, documenting every threat and every fake account. Kio, for his part, used his network to obtain testimonies from other alphas who had been victims of the same hatred.
They built a solid case, ready to be filed in court. At the same time, they planned a media counteroffensive. They organized a press conference, limited to independent and progressive media, where they would announce a partnership between NOX and several rights NGOs.
They spent several hours rehearsing their pitch, perfecting every word: quiet strength, no uncontrolled anger, but firm resolve. That same evening, at a virtual NOX meeting, they presented their strategy to the members: a legal fight, an online truth campaign, and psychological support for persecuted alphas.
The fightback had just begun.
The day before the press conference, a sealed letter arrived for Kio. The envelope bore his father's unmistakable seal. Inside, a simple note: "You have crossed the line our family should never cross. Come to your senses, or you will be permanently cut off from my inheritance." Kio reread the message several times, his heart in pieces. He felt anger rising, but quickly quelled it with a whisper.
"I knew it would escalate to the point of threatening the family," he whispered.
Aru slipped her hand into his.
"Whatever happens, I'm with you."
The next morning, the mainstream media were not amused. The 24-hour news channels carried headlines: "Kio Renka, Disowned Heir?""Renka Family in Crisis," "The CEO Denatured."
The tabloids published accusatory editorials, delving into the private lives of the Renka clan. Social media, meanwhile, quickly overtook the initial hate campaign. Conservative hashtags called for a boycott of Renka products.
Other, more moderate, called for privacy, but remained in the minority. At Renka Industries headquarters, the atmosphere was electric. Senior executives dispersed into hushed corridors, whispering about the "house reputation."
Some curiously approached Aru, hoping to score a loyalty bonus. In the loft, Aru and Kio stared at these headlines in silence. Kio closed his eyes for a moment.
"I thought I could handle anything... except losing you." Aru brought her face closer to his.
"You won't lose me. I'll do anything to make sure your family sees who we really are."
They knew, in this silence, that the battle had reached a new level: it was no longer just society, but their own roots that blocked their path.
The conference room at NOX headquarters was packed. Rows of chairs lined up facing a plain stage, a white carpet, and the foundation's logo in clean letters.
Journalists, cameras pointed, microphones ready, whispered among themselves, creating an electric tension. Aru and Kio took the stage, side by side.
Aru in a dark suit, Kio in a white shirt open over a black T-shirt. They shook hands, a simple but powerful gesture.
"Good morning, everyone," Aru began, his voice firm.
"Thank you for coming. Today, we are not here to apologize, but to share a vision."
Kio took over.
"I am Kio Renka. I am proud to be alpha, to be it freely, and to love Aru Sagan."
"And I am Aru Sagan," Aru added.
"We founded NOX to create a space of support, resources, and networking for marginalized alphas."
A flash crackled in the room.
"We've received threats," Kio explained.
"We've suffered personal attacks. But we believe that only dialogue and solidarity can change mentalities." Aru nodded
. "NOX will work in three ways: Legal and psychological assistance. Conferences and workshops to raise public awareness. A secure platform for everyone to share their stories."
A hand went up from the audience. A journalist:
"Do you really think you'll change the minds of a society so steeped in its traditions?"
Kio smiled frankly.
"We won't change the world overnight. But every testimony, every act of support counts. We exist, and we will no longer hide."
Another journalist chimed in:
"Mr. Renka, are you afraid for your position within Renka Industries?"
Kio exchanged a look with Aru, then replied.
"I've already lost what some call a legacy. Today, I gain my freedom. And that's a price I'm willing to pay."
The flashes were still popping. Aru finished:
"We invite the media to cover our activities, to come and see our workshops and offices up close. We will open our doors to everyone. Even to those who don't yet understand."
They left the stage in heavy silence, then cheered by a few members of the independent press who had come to support them.
Outside, the media storm continued, but within them was born a new hope: that of being seen.