Unbeknownst to Tokio, the chaos was growing like a snowball. It wasn’t just Ikuto’s fans and gossip enthusiasts; activist groups were issuing statements accusing the situation of “Beta discrimination,” and gender scholars were posting on social media, claiming, “Yanagi Ikuto’s actions symbolise Alpha arrogance.” What began as a scandal had now turned into a full-blown debate on discrimination.
Reporters from gossip magazines and TV crews began crowding around Tokio’s house as well.
“Are you aware that Yanagi Ikuto might lose his commercial contracts because of his issue with you?”
“Do you have any words of apology?”
“Do you feel nothing about causing harm to such a national star?”
“What are your thoughts on Beta discrimination?”
Whenever Tokio tried to head to his part-time job at the convenience store, a few reporters bombarded him with questions one after another.
Even the film Ikuto was currently working on, a joint Japan-China production, was being labeled with headlines like “Emotional Masterpiece Ruined by Scandal!?” As a result, harassment from fans escalated further.
Trash was being illegally dumped at the convenience store, and the phone line, which only had one connection, rang endlessly. Online, embarrassing things like Tokio’s middle and high school yearbook photos and random scribbles like “f*** this world” had been leaked, making him a laughingstock.
Tokio felt like none of this was really happening to him.
The only thing that truly weighed on his mind was Ikuto’s career. With multiple fashion brand contracts and a new movie set to release soon, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that his connection to Ikuto might be damaging his image.
But then, Tokio stopped himself.
“My connection to him”? What the hell does that even mean? Nothing’s happened yet!
Calm down. What do you mean by “yet”?
Hiding behind the counter at the convenience store, Tokio lightly punched himself in the face.
He returned to work with a calm expression, but Ikuto’s face kept flashing in his mind. Especially the face he had when he cried such beautiful tears—Tokio couldn’t help but worry if all the drama was hurting Ikuto emotionally.
After his shift, while changing in the locker room, Tokio finally gathered the courage to call Ikuto. He didn’t have anything in particular to say, but he could at least apologize for not returning the calls Ikuto had made.
“—Tokio?”
After a few rings, Ikuto’s deep voice answered. The moment Tokio heard his voice, his fingertips trembled for no reason.
Sorry for not answering. Are you okay? I’m fine here,—the words he had prepared vanished in an instant, and all he could say was, “Ah…”
“Thanks for calling… And I’m really sorry for everything. It’s my fault for kissing you in front of your house.”
“Uh… well…”
The words wouldn’t come out. All Tokio wanted to say was don’t worry about it, but nothing came.
Looking back, Ikuto had always been the one coming to the convenience store to see him. This was the first time Tokio had ever taken the initiative to contact Ikuto.
Why am I so nervous right now?
“Are you okay, Tokio?”
Come on, say something!
Urging himself on, the only thing that slipped out was something completely unimportant.
“I-I just finished work.”
“I’m heading back to my hotel too. You must be tired, huh?”
“…Yeah, thanks. You too.”
A silence followed. Maybe it lasted ten seconds or so. He could’ve hung up the phone, but something about staying connected, even in silence, felt strangely comforting.
It was Ikuto who broke the silence with a deep sigh. Tokio flinched, his fingers suddenly turning cold.
—Is he going to say I should just hang up?
—Or tell me things are tough because his work is drying up?
As Tokio gripped his phone tighter, wondering what words would come next, Ikuto spoke in a low, almost pleading voice.
“…I want to see you.”
He said there were lots of things he wanted to talk about, but for now, he just wanted to see Tokio’s face to feel reassured.
“Mm.”
Tokio, face flushed red and sweaty, nodded while gripping the collar of his stretched-out black T-shirt. He understood exactly how Ikuto felt. Just hearing Ikuto’s voice over the phone had already made Tokio feel more at ease, too.
He pushed aside the question of why this brought him so much comfort.
They decided to meet at the park where Tokio had once given Ikuto a ride on his scooter. When Tokio parked his scooter in the lot, Ikuto was already sitting on a bench. Even in the dim light, his silhouette was unmistakable—the long limbs, the small head, the graceful movements.
Yeah, that’s him.
“Tokio… I’m really happy to see you.”
Ikuto said it so casually that Tokio couldn’t help but be impressed. He had been a nervous wreck even on the phone, but Ikuto handled every word smoothly—Tokio wondered if the guy had a script in his back pocket or something.
“How do you manage to talk so smoothly?”
Ikuto didn’t understand the question, smiling awkwardly and tilting his head.
They sat down on the bench and exchanged updates. Ikuto talked about how reporters were constantly hanging around his hotel, making things difficult.
“Since I’ve always kept my private life completely hidden, I guess it’s like a novelty to the media. They can get ratings from it.”
Ikuto scratched his cheek, explaining that he didn’t really have much of a personal life worth showing.
“I’m honestly just a guy who has nothing going on outside of work.”
Tokio was surprised. He had always imagined celebrities having flashy private lives.
“What about hobbies?”
“None.”
“What do you do on your days off?”
“Sleep.”
“A-and, like, girlfriends?”
“…That’s a mean question to ask me.”
Ikuto casually lifted Tokio’s hand and gave a playful pinch to the back of it, saying, “That’s payback.”
“Are you a kid?”
“I’d prefer ‘adult child,’ thanks.”
“That’s even worse.”
They chatted like that until midnight passed. Wow, time really flies, Tokio thought. Gathering his courage, he finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him.
“Hey, is it true that your work is really drying up? Because of this whole image thing?”
Ikuto froze for a moment, looking confused.
“Drying up? My work?”
“Yeah, that’s what they said in the articles, and the reporters who came to my house said so too. I was worried—”
Before Tokio could finish, he noticed Ikuto’s light brown eyes filling with tears. Startled, Tokio leaned in to get a better look.
“So it is true…? Whoa!”
Suddenly, Ikuto pulled Tokio into a tight embrace, burying his head in his chest. The soft scent of sunlit warmth lingered on Ikuto’s shirt, filling Tokio’s nose.
“Tokio… I can’t believe you were worried about me.”
Ikuto’s tears were from pure joy. “That’s what you’re crying about?!” Tokio thought, wishing he could take back all the time he spent worrying over nothing.
“I’m so happy. It means so much to me that you’re seeing the real me.”
Ikuto explained that anyone who valued him only as “the actor Yanagi Ikuto, the Alpha” would abandon him the moment they sensed his career was faltering.
“If my work were to dry up, I’d be thrilled. Unfortunately, my schedule is packed for the next three years, and most of my sponsors are from overseas, so even if there’s drama in Japan, it doesn’t affect me.”
“R-really?”
“Well, if I lost control of my pheromones and accidentally attacked you, that would be a different story—it’d be a criminal offense then.”
For a moment, Ikuto’s eyes flashed with an animalistic intensity, but he quickly returned to his usual calm demeanor.
“But you’re a Beta, so there’s no need to worry about me losing control.”
Ouch. Something inside Tokio ached. The pain was sharper than he expected, and it caught him off guard. He had often heard the phrase “because you’re a Beta” as a reason for being overlooked, but for some reason, hearing it now hurt more than ever.
“Y-yeah, I’m a Beta.”
Alphas are supposed to bond with Omegas, passing on their superior genes—that’s what the school nurse had said during sex education in middle school. Those words spun around in Tokio’s head now, and back then, he had thought:
Betas are totally left out of everything.
Suddenly, he felt something wet on his cheek.
“…Tokio?”
Ikuto wiped his cheek with a finger, and it was only then that Tokio realized he was crying.
He didn’t understand why he was crying. He had always accepted that Betas weren’t meant to be in the spotlight. Ikuto had simply pointed out the obvious—that Tokio wasn’t part of the main cast. But somehow, hearing it now brought tears to his eyes.
“Huh, this is weird… why am I…?”
Ikuto’s warm, large hands gently cradled Tokio’s tear-streaked face. His face was so close that their noses were almost touching.
“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”
“No, that’s not it.”
Tokio tried to pull away, but Ikuto’s Alpha strength was too much for him. Ikuto stared at him, repeatedly apologizing, but something about his behavior felt off. It was as if Ikuto was getting excited by Tokio’s tears.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… Can I kiss you until you stop crying?”
“Huh? What does that even—mmmph!”
Ikuto grabbed the back of Tokio’s neck and pulled him in, covering his lips with a kiss. And just like that, Tokio, who had never had a partner in his 26 years of life, had his first kiss stolen.
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