The monochrome hum of the office was the soundtrack of Lyle's life. The clatter of keyboards, the murmur of printers, and the constant whisper of the ventilation formed a soundscape he knew all too well. And at the center of that ecosystem, like a sun around which everything revolved, was her: Elaine Frazer, his boss.
"Subordinate Lyle," a voice, clear and sharp as a sword's edge, cut through the section's air. "The third-quarter sales report. It has three calculation errors and the projection is excessively optimistic, lacking a real basis. Do it again."
Lyle, without looking away from his screen, nodded with impeccable professional seriousness.
"Understood, Boss Elaine. I'll have it revised by this afternoon."
Beside him, his cubicle mate leaned in with a mocking smile.
"Oof, again. Seems the boss has you in her sights, Lyle. Did you steal her last Pocky or something?"
"She just demands excellence," Lyle replied dryly, adjusting his glasses. "She's a rigorous professional."
(And a professional who, last night, bit my shoulder because I beat her at Wario Kart.)
He thought, feeling a furtive heat in his ears.
The whispers among colleagues were a well-known mantra: "Poor Lyle, always Boss Frazer's punching bag," "They fight like cats and dogs," "They don't even use respectful titles with each other, it's all cold formality."
Lyle nodded with an expression of resigned acceptance. Let them believe. It was the safest facade, the perfect shield to protect the secret that had burned in his chest since his school uniform days.
◇◇◇
The clock hands, with agonizing slowness, finally kissed six. The ritual began. Lyle meticulously turned off his computer, organized his documents, and stood up just as Elaine exited her glass-walled office, her beige trench coat over her shoulders.
"Until tomorrow, Subordinate Lyle," she said, without looking at him, heading towards the elevator.
"Until tomorrow, Boss Elaine," he responded, taking the stairs, as usual.
Five minutes later, in the back alley of the office building, away from prying eyes, the facade shattered. As soon as Lyle turned the corner, a projectile of beige wool and jasmine scent launched itself at his chest.
"Lyle-san! What an unbearable day! I thought the director would never finish that meeting!"
Elaine was hanging from his neck, her thin heels barely lifting her off the ground, her severe professional bun now undone into soft waves over her shoulders. Lyle held her with one arm, unable to contain a smile he never allowed himself on the 14th floor.
"Elaine-san, you let your guard down too quickly. Someone could see us."
"At this hour, only the cats are interested in this alley. Besides, I needed it. Your personal oxygen is my reward for putting up with that foolish accounting director."
They were secret lovers in every sense of the word.
◇◇◇
Their destination that night was a small bar hidden under the train line, a place of dim lights and aged wood where grill smoke mingled with muffled laughter. Nothing like the Michelin-starred restaurants or galas that Elaine, heiress to the Frazers, was accustomed to by family obligation.
"Two chicken skewers, one fish skewer, a draft beer pitcher, and... grilled clams for the lady!" Lyle ordered with familiarity.
"Add some spicy wings!" added Elaine, shedding her trench coat to reveal a simple cotton dress.
Her transformation was complete; the fearsome Boss Frazer had disappeared, leaving a twenty-something girl with eyes bright with anticipation.
"It always surprises me how much you enjoy this," Lyle commented as she devoured a chicken skewer with genuine delight.
"Because it's real," she said, wiping a tiny trail of sauce from the corner of her lip with a gesture he found adorable. "At those banquets, you don't eat to enjoy, you eat to be seen, to make connections. This... this is just good food and your company. No social tools, just... you."
He knew. He remembered the Elaine from high school, elegantly isolated in her tower of prestigious surname and monumental expectations. The girl who heard, hidden behind a door, how her social circle "friends" called her "cold," "calculating," and "daddy's little princess." The one he found, days later, with red eyes in the library, not from studying, but from a loneliness money couldn't fill.
That was the Elaine whom the simple-minded student named Lyle fell in love with.
"I'm going to the restroom for a moment," Elaine announced, standing up.
While waiting, Lyle ordered another beer. From the neighboring stool, fragments of a conversation reached him that made his fingers clutch the cold glass.
"...The one in the beige dress, did you see her? A serene beauty, the kind that takes your breath away."
"And that plain guy she's with? What does he have that we don't? With that cheap salaryman suit..."
"Maybe he's the chauffeur, hahaha."
Rage was an instant, bitter lash, but he swallowed it. They were used to it. They were the classic "What is she doing with him?", the mystery for strangers and the "Why do they fight so much?" for coworkers. Never "Lyle and Elaine," always "Her and that guy."
When Elaine returned, the liquor she'd had earlier had taken effect. Her cheeks were rosy, her laughter a bit freer, and her gaze, a bit more lost.
"Lyle-saaan... the world is spinning," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I think it's time to take you home, Boss," he whispered, paying the bill.
◇◇◇
Elaine's apartment was minimalist and expensive, with a panoramic city view that looked like an abstract painting of lights. Lyle helped her inside, carefully laid her on the bed, and bent down to remove her shoes.
"Rest. I'll get you water and..."
A hand, surprisingly firm despite the drunkenness, grabbed his wrist.
"Don't go."
The voice had lost all traces of intoxication. It was clear, vulnerable, and pierced his chest.
"Elaine-san, you need to sleep..."
"What do I have?" she asked suddenly, her dark eyes fixed on his. "Money, position, a surname that's a door to advancement... Why you? Why, among all the daddy's boys, the heirs, and the social climbers who see me as an elevator, are you you?"
"What's so special about me? Are you after my body or something?"
Lyle stayed still. It was the unasked question, the elephant in the room of their seven-year secret relationship.
"I don't know," he responded, honest. "I'm not special."
"But when we're outside of work, you act like a normal girl. I understand your work aptitude and it never bothered me; rather, I'm the one who feels out of place with you. That's why I wonder if this relationship is okay."
"You are exactly what I need," she proclaimed, the seriousness chasing away the last vestiges of alcohol. "Because when you saw me in the library, with swollen eyes, you didn't ask me, 'What's wrong with the Frazer heiress?' You asked me, 'What's wrong with Elaine?' You offered me your handkerchief, not your business card. You didn't see a surname, you saw a person. And I... I who was so tired of being an 'object,' of being a tool in someone's strategy, found in you someone who saw me as a 'someone.'"
The words then gushed forth, a torrent contained for years.
"My father announced it a month ago. If I 'formalize' a relationship with someone 'unsuitable' before I'm thirty, I'll be disinherited. I'll lose all access to the trust fund, the resources. It's not about the money, Lyle, it's about... the safety net, the independence that capital would give us. I want to buy an apartment, one that's ours, in my own name, so that when this becomes known, we have a place to belong, away from... all of this."
Lyle looked at her, and in her eyes he saw not the heiress's fear, but the fierce determination of the library girl. The one who had chosen, against all odds, to bet on him.
"That's why the secret..." he murmured.
"That's why the secret," she nodded. "Not out of shame. Never out of shame. For strategy. For a future that doesn't depend on his approval. But sometimes... sometimes I hate having to pretend to scold you. I hate that they think I can't stand you, when in reality..."
She didn't finish the sentence. He swept her away with a kiss. It wasn't the first kiss of their story, but it was one loaded with seven years of shared silences, furtive glances in office hallways, and love growing in the shadow of a powerful surname. It was a kiss that sealed a promise and tore down, for one night, all barriers.
◇◇◇
The next morning in the office, Lyle was distracted. The memory of Elaine's skin under his hands, her halting confessions, the future they planned in whispers... everything spun in his head, interfering with the spreadsheet cells on his screen.
(An apartment. She was planning to buy an apartment for us. With her money, but for us. How long had she been carrying that burden alone?)
"Subordinate Lyle."
The voice. The same as yesterday, professional, impersonal. Elaine was in front of his cubicle, impeccable in her gray pantsuit, the perfect bun back in place. She held a folder.
"The corrected report. There are still inconsistencies on page two. Review it before lunch."
But her eyes, for just a fraction of a second, met his. And in that fleeting instant, Lyle didn't see Boss Frazer. He saw Elaine, his Elaine, with a glint of complicity and a barely perceptible blush.
Something broke inside him. The farce, suddenly, felt unbearable. The weight of being "the subordinate" in front of the woman he loved, in the same place where they had planned their future just hours before, was too much.
He stood up abruptly. The chair swiveled with a screech that silenced the office murmurs. All eyes turned to him. Elaine blinked, confused.
"Subordinate Lyle, what...?"
"I have something to say," he announced, his voice firmer than it had ever been in that room. "To everyone. Elaine Frazer is not just my boss."
He paused, swallowing. The air thickened. He saw panic appear in her eyes, a panic that was quickly replaced by absolute surprise.
"She is my girlfriend. We've been together for seven years, since high school. And... and I love her."
The silence that followed was absolute, sepulchral. Lyle braced his body for the impact: the shouts, the accusations, the uproar. But what came was not an earthquake. It was a collective sigh, followed by... laughter?
His cubicle mate chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Man, Lyle, finally. We were wondering how much longer you two were going to drag out that comedy."
"Yeah," said a colleague from marketing, smiling. "The 'arguments' were so theatrical... 'Subordinate Lyle, this coffee is cold.' 'Yes, Boss Elaine, my terrible mistake.' You seemed like a low-quality sketch!"
"The tone of voice completely changes when you talk on the phone during lunch hour," added another, shrugging. "We thought maybe you hadn't realized how obvious it was."
Lyle and Elaine looked at each other. The surprise on their faces was identical, a mirror of pure astonishment.
"What?" Elaine managed to articulate.
"Everyone... knew?" asked Lyle, dumbfounded.
At that moment, the phone on Lyle's desk vibrated with a message. From a private number from the company's top level. With trembling hands, he opened it.
[Lyle-kun, isn't it? Elaine's father here. Yes, I have your number. Yes, I've known since her second year of university, when I saw you pick her up from campus with that ridiculous motorcycle helmet. At first I was furious. I thought about the company, the alliances, the legacy. But over the years, and especially since my wife passed away, I understood something. The look in my daughter's eyes when she talks about you (yes, she talks about you, she thinks I don't notice) is the same glow her mother had. The most important legacy isn't an empire, it's her happiness. I expect you both for dinner tonight. 7 p.m. Don't be late. And, Lyle-kun... take care of her.]
Lyle looked up, his vision blurred by an indescribable emotion. He showed the screen to Elaine. She read it once, twice. Then, a solitary tear escaped down her cheek, tracing a fine path over her perfect professional makeup.
The murmur had returned to the office, but now it was warm, amused. His cubicle neighbor gave Lyle a light tap on the arm.
"Hey, and that fight over the third-quarter report, was it real or just your weird flirting?"
"It was real," Lyle and Elaine said in unison, and this time, both laughed. A genuine, liberating laugh that resonated in the office.
The rest of the day was a strange and wonderful duality. Elaine was still "Boss Elaine" giving instructions, and Lyle was still "Subordinate Lyle" nodding. But now, in the spaces between words, there were knowing smiles. A brush of hands when passing a folder. A wink from behind the computer screen.
At the end of the workday, in the back alley, there was no need to wait. She took his hand openly.
"We're fools, Lyle-san," she whispered, between laughter and a remnant of disbelief. "Fools for thinking our act was perfect."
"Fools for not realizing that love is sometimes more transparent than we believe," he responded, bringing their intertwined fingers to his lips.
The facade had crumbled, but not to reveal an emptiness. It had revealed a bridge that everyone except them had already seen. The secret had ceased to be a burden and become an anecdote, the prequel to their new reality.
That night, on their way to the dinner they had feared for years, Elaine squeezed Lyle's hand.
"What if after this my father puts you in charge of a branch at the North Pole?"
"Then I'll learn to build igloos with WiFi, Boss Elaine."
"Idiot," she said, smiling, and rested her head on his shoulder.
The office romance hadn't been easy. It had been full of secret codes, fears, and hidden dinners in bars. But the hardest part—hiding—had finally ended. And as they walked together under the city lights, both knew, with a quiet and joyful certainty, that their story, in reality, was only just beginning.
________________
Is Elaine a good character or not?
Her fanservice as school girl uniform: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/6348353?q=kongou_%28azur_lane%29+