Knight stared out at the clouds drifting past the window, but he wasn't admiring them.
His mind was elsewhere—on a memory.
His wife's face, pressed eagerly against the glass as she watched the clouds float by. The way her cheeks had puffed out with delight. The light in her eyes. The innocence in her smile.
"We'll be landing soon," Fang said from across the cabin.
Knight didn't respond. Didn't look at him. He just kept staring out the window, unmoving.
****
As they approached the waiting car, Fang handed Knight a lighter. Without a word, Knight lit the cigarette, took a long drag, and slid into the backseat. Fang followed, shutting the door behind him.
The drive was silent for a while—tension hanging like a fog—until Fang finally spoke.
"Are you sure you want to see the tapes?"
Knight said nothing. He exhaled smoke slowly, the glow of the cigarette briefly lighting his face in the shadows.
Then, instead of answering, he said flatly, "I want everything in perfect order tomorrow. They'll be arriving, and it must go off without a hitch."
Fang nodded. "Of course, Knight."
Knight didn't speak again. He just stared out the window, eyes distant, watching the world blur by.
Thirty minutes later.
"Uncle Kier, you're back!"
Daisy came running, her tiny feet pattering against the floor as she threw herself into Knight's arms.
He dropped to his knees and caught her, scooping her up with a genuine smile.
"I thought you weren't coming back today! I thought you'd miss my birthday tomorrow," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he said softly, rubbing his nose against hers. She giggled, wriggling in his arms.
But then, she pulled back and looked behind him, frowning.
"Uncle Kier… where's Lily? Is she still in the car?"
Knight's smile didn't falter, but he said nothing. He simply stood up and carried her toward the house.
Amelia, who had been watching from nearby, perked up at the mention of Genesis.
"Uncle Kier, where's Lily?" Daisy asked again as he set her down.
Before Knight could reply, his father—Donald Blackwood—descended the stairs, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Kieran, we need to talk."
Knight didn't turn. He placed a steady hand on Daisy's head and gently ushered her away.
Daisy, now visibly confused, backed up and hurried toward the front doors. She glanced outside just before the heavy doors shut behind the arriving men—but saw no sign of Genesis anywhere.
"Father," Knight finally said, turning to face Donald. "We can talk later. I've just had a long flight. I need to rest."
"Well, your rest will have to wait. This is more important."
Knight stared at him for a beat. Then turned away and began walking upstairs, unwilling to tolerate whatever lecture was coming.
"Kieran! What gave you the audacity to turn your back on me when—"
"The baby is yours,"
The room went still.
Amelia had risen from the couch, her voice slicing through the tension like glass.
Knight stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned around to face her.
His expression didn't change. It was unreadable.
"We took a new DNA test," she continued, eyes flicking between him and Donald. "Your father was there. The results came in today. I'm not faking the pregnancy. The child... it's really yours."
Knight looked at her for a moment.
Then, calmly, he said, "I know."
And without waiting for a response, he turned and continued up the stairs.
Everyone stared after him—stunned into silence.
Daisy, still at the bottom of the stairs, looked confused and worried. Donald was furious. Amelia stood there, speechless, her mouth slightly open.
Knight entered the bedroom and quietly shut the door behind him. He stood there for a long moment, unmoving. Then, after a breath of hesitation, he walked to the closet.
Inside the walk-in, he stopped at her side of the wardrobe.
Her dresses still hung there—color-coded, soft fabrics, delicate like she was.
He reached out and ran his fingers over one.
Then, carefully, he took it from the hanger and brought it close to his face.
He inhaled deeply.
His jaw clenched.
The scent was faint now—just traces of her. Her shampoo. Her skin. Maybe even the perfume she used to wear before deciding it made her sneeze.
He closed his eyes.
For a second, it felt like she was right there. Like she hadn't left. Like she hadn't been left behind.
Then his eyes opened again—sharp. Cold.
Without a word, he returned to the bedroom, still holding her dress. He walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, placing it beside him like it was something sacred. Something he didn't want to break.
Then he picked up his phone.
A few taps.
The screen lit up.
He opened a discreet app—just a black icon with no name. After entering a long string of numbers and letters, a small loading circle spun across the screen.
Across the room, the large flat screen mounted on the wall flickered to life. It was built into the bedroom wall—part of the house's private surveillance system. Only he had access.
Knight leaned forward, resting one elbow on his knee, the other hand still holding an unlit cigarette between his fingers.
The feed connected.
Grainy, but live.
CCTV footage from the Academy.
The place where he had left her.
His eyes scanned the screen, sharp and tense. And then—there she was.
The camera showed their shared room back at the Academy. She sat on the edge of the bed, knees pulled tightly to her chest, shoulders trembling as she cried.
Her face was bruised.
He watched, jaw clenched, expression unreadable. A part of him wanted nothing more than to rush back, to hold her, to take her away from it all.
But he couldn't.
This was for her own good.
Just then, the door in the footage opened. One of the angels walked in—he couldn't hear the conversation, but he didn't need to.
It was time for her next training session.
Knight looked away.
He dropped his gaze to the dress beside him, the one he had taken from her closet. He lifted it to his nose again, breathing in her fading scent like it was oxygen.
And then
, her words echoed in his mind.
Saeko's words.
"To become the next Knight… she must become like you.
No. More than you. She must become ruthless."