The Princess' Sonata
His voice rang out through the velvet room adorned with certificates and medals. Sitting behind the rich oak table, Athrun Zala, 20, narrowed his eyes as the lady in front of him knelt.
"Chairman Zala, please give me another chance!" she pleaded, her eyes brimming with tears.
"I didn't like how your report turned out that's why I'm firing you," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
She knelt lower so that her head almost touched the floor. She didn't care about saving her remaining dignity. "Please, Mr. Zala! Please give me another chance!"
"Are you questioning my decision?" he asked dangerously.
"No, sir! Of course not! But please! One—"
"—Last chance, young lady? I'm sorry, but I don't accept an incompetent person as my personal secretary. Especially someone like you... a coordinator, but still stupid."
Tears flowed out of the lady's eyes. She couldn't do anything, she knew she couldn't. "No... please, sir..."
Athrun relaxed in his chair, "Get out."
"Please, Chairman Zala! I really need this job!"
"Get out, or I'll personally drag you out," he said in a voice that could match the temperature on Pluto.
Athrun spun his chair to face the large French windows, his back facing the lady. "Get out before I lose my temper with you."
Pushing a button on his leather chair, he spoke in a professional manner, "Please get this lady out of my sight."
"Sir, please! Please! Have mercy!"
In a snap, two soldiers entered the room. With their ZAFT uniforms perfectly ironed, they stood proudly while holding their guns. They grabbed the pleading lady by the elbows and exited the room.
The doors closed and the cries of the lady were silenced. Athrun resumed his position facing the windows. Sighing, he pushed another button.
"Could you please direct me to Patrick Zala?"
The operator spoke a soft 'Please hold on'. With a click, a man's voice spoke from the other line, "What is...