The foyer was empty, with only the bright sunlight painting it. I walked on the curved stairs heading to the second floor; the floor where the ‘training room’ as they call it was located. Honestly, I’d rather just call it ‘gym’.
There were only a few maids in the hallways dusting off furniture, and wiping the glass of the huge windows as I made my way through. Each of them would greet me the usual “good morning” which I always respond with a nod.
I reached the gym then was a bit surprised to see Zachariah there. He was wearing a white sleeveless shirt and a pair of black trousers tucked underneath a pair of black boots.
He was mad focused on the punching bag, throwing strong jabs and hard kicks that made the bag flail around hard due to the impact. He was probably having a f****d-up day
