ATTEMPTED MURDER

Inside the room, Dawn found Zenith sleeping soundly. He looked tired with a few parchments scattered on the table before him. She took a look and noticed those were from different continents, written in different languages.

"How many languages could he speak?" Dawn mumbled to herself and saw Zenith had not yet touched his meal.

Zenith was leaning his back against the backrest of his lavish chair, closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

She contemplated waking him up for a moment, but then she decided against her idea. Maybe he needed this rest more, so she dropped her plate on the table and went to get a blanket for him.

"I hope you get sick, so I don't need to go through that stupid training, but it will be cruel to wish you bad luck," Dawn talked to herself, as she draped the blanket on his body. "He really had his guard down…"