The White Knight's 49 Shadows
What’s the best part about being born the eldest son of a baron's family?
A comfortable lifestyle? Sure, compared to commoners. But stack me up against the real heavy-hitters at the academy, and I look downright shabby.
The admiring gazes from the masses? I've been so casual with everyone that any sense of authority went out the window ages ago.
No matter how I turned it over in my mind, the real perk of my position wasn't anything external.
“Adrian!!”
Honestly, the best thing about a good family is the slack it gives you.
I could twiddle my thumbs forever and I'd still end up as head of the house someday.
That said, my day-to-day wouldn't change much.
People would just swap “young master” for “lord” or “Baron Vallancien,” that's all.
As heir, you get dragged to a few obligations here and there. But once you're actually in charge? Your ass gets glued to the seat—that's noble society for you.
“Adrian!! Are you seriously sleeping right now?!!”
“……”
I plugged my ears against the racket.
I was finally catching some deep sleep after forever, and my sister had to ruin it—hell no.
“You crazy bastard!!”
Whoosh—she yanked the blankets off me, and fury boiled up in an instant.
“You... you sleeping right now? Do you even know what you've done?!”
“...What the hell are you talking about?”
What had I even done?
Hang around mercenaries, coaxing sekdeulrip out of them disguised as heroic tales?
Try to stir up the thugs to reopen the casino after it shut down, only for them all to bail and leave me striking out?
Sneak into the underground fight club the delinquents set up, blow my cover by accident, and hack off some guy's arm, turning a small thing into a big mess?
“This book's yours, isn't it!!!”
“...?”
A book?
The word blindsided me, leaving me dazed for a second before I spotted the one clutched in her right hand.
“What's the big deal about some book?”
“Th-that……”
My raging sister went dead quiet in a flash.
Was asking what book so paralyzing?
“...Beats me. Just look and you'll know!”
She chucked it at me; I picked it up off the floor.
The White Knight's 49 Shadows
“……”
“And whatever the hell you wrote in this book... right now……”
“Yeah, got it. It's mine, sure.”
“You son of a—”
“Where'd you get it?”
“...Huh?”
“I had it bound just for my own eyes. So where'd you snag it?”
“...Come again?”
My sister froze at the question, her face screaming what the fuck are you on about?
“It's making the rounds in high society, apparently?”
“What?”
“...No clue. The butler mentioned it.”
I hadn't even considered that.
If it were other nobles, they might've already married their fiancées, beaten the drums, clashed the cymbals, and popped out kids by my age. But my sister? Stuck playing acting baroness without a single prospect. No way she'd know society trends.
“...Gotta head to the bindery.”
“Wh-what? Why?”
“Someone spread my private satisfaction project without asking. And it's from their lord's territory, no less.”
Truth be told, I hadn't made it planning to distribute right away.
I was disappointed in this world's sex drive and hatched an ambitious scheme, sure.
But I put it on hold to test it as a book first.
At least confirm if this scribble even qualified as writing.
No matter how hyped people got for something stimulating, it had to read like actual words to be worth a damn.
I wasn't some reincarnated writer from my past life—no guarantee I'd nail the prose on the first try.
“No. Wait, hold on. You're heading out now?”
“Yeah. Delaying won't help.”
Sleep was long gone thanks to her anyway. What was the point of rolling around here?
“Not now.”
“...Why not?”
“Your fiancée's coming today.”
“……”
“...You forgot, didn't you?”
“Yeah.”
Blackout-level forgetfulness.
Unlike my sister—who'd been single past her coming-of-age year—I had a fiancée.
I was pegged as next head of the house, so engagement was a must.
Sure, sis was handling lord duties now, but she was just a proxy.
Which made it weird from the jump: the future baron of some backwater hole engaged to a marquis's daughter.
Not that there's zero logic to it.
Unlike my rural barony on the frontier, her family was capital marquisate.
They might have a massive mansion, but no real territory—any expansion bid would draw imperial heat.
So hitching to a countryside family like mine? Not that strange.
Damn good engagement, all told.
Not that I pushed for it.
“I'll handle chewing out the bindery myself.”
“Okay.”
“So don't say anything weird.”
“Weird how?”
“You know... no, not that I want you to! Just don't—don't say it!”
“Don't say what, exactly?”
“The book! The book! Don't talk about the damn book!!”
“...Like I said, I didn't write it to show anyone.”
Anyone hearing her would think I penned it for public eyes.
Though showing it was the original plan.
“Content like that? No reason to bring it up anyway.”
“...Sigh. Fine. You've always been sweet to your fiancée.”
I knew my place in the hierarchy.
I wasn't some clueless kid acting on whims.
“So how about treating this sister a little better?”
“Am I not already?”
“...Never mind.”
Sis kept nagging till the end as she left.
Don't say weird shit. Be nice to the fiancée. Think three times before speaking if it sounds off.
Coming from our fifth-year orphan duo? Kinda ridiculous.
Anyone'd think we had a ten-year gap. We were just one year apart.
“Young master.”
After sis vanished, the butler appeared out of nowhere with the news.
“Lady Montr has arrived.”
“Ah.”
I nodded, finishing my prep.
Half-done during the tussle with sis, so it didn't take long.
Slung on a coat and stepped out, spotting the waiting carriage as described.
Empty, no coachman—probably waiting in the parlor first.
A whiff of elegant tea scent wafted from the nearby room already.
A few more steps, and there she was: the lady gazing out the open window.
“Lady Montr.”
My low murmur made her eyelids twitch; she turned with a radiant smile.
“Adrian. I've been waiting.”
“Sorry I'm late.”
“It's fine. I'd have been late too.”
She tapped her fan against her palm—tap, tap.
Her soft words hid a sharp edge.
“No, it's still rude.”
Better than when I was just the baron's kid and she treated me like dirt.
Now? She knew our houses' interests aligned, but it was pure contempt.
Why should my bright future be blocked by this hick? That vibe, full blast.
“Can't be late to the adulthood ceremony either, right?”
“...Yes, quite right.”
She was hyped for the looming ceremony.
Capital folk treated you like a kid without one—maybe that's why.
Having seen sis run the house as proxy since childhood, it baffled me.
She handled everything fine without one.
“So don't embarrass me there. Got it?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the poised lady, fan unfurled.
Kiara de Montr.
Sole daughter of the Montr Marquisate—capital nobles.
With four sons, three soldiers? Total daddy's girl.
No wonder the arrogance came naturally.
How much coddling did she get?
Random thoughts clouded my head, then cleared as she thrust a paper at me.
“...What's this?”
“Dress code for this time. Wear exactly this. Don't show up in something tacky and embarrass me.”
She spat it out, fanning herself briskly.
I held off replying, scanning the paper.
“Hm……”
A simple sketch of a faceless man.
Hand it to the servants, and they'd prep the outfit.
“……?”
But something nagged at my memory.
I've seen this before...
“……A uniform of pure white. Embroidered with gold thread, three insignia badges denoting achievements.
A tailored fit hugging the frame perfectly. And on the right trouser pocket, a slender golden chain.
No wartime scenario, yet an empty holster where a pistol should be.
The elements evoking the iron-blooded White Knight were starkly intense……”
...That's it.
“Lady Montr.”
“Yes?”
“This... the White Knight……”
No, never mind.
Paranoia much?
Sis said that, but no way was my book trending in society.
Just her usual exaggeration.
“……”
“...Lady Montr?”
Her usual lofty disdain shifted subtly.
Like shadows turning to red silk—her face faintly flushed.
No answer to my calls.
Just the fan speeding up toward her face.
Flutter flutter flutter.
“N-no idea what you're talking about.”
“…”
“This is cleaner than those flashy tailcoats in vogue lately, right?”
“...Yes.”
“People expect to see someone major at the ceremony—like a princess—and if you draw those eyes, I'm the one in trouble, but I thought this suits you fine, so what's so weird about—?!”
“I like it.”
“……Huh?”
Motivation aside, I could voice a honest take.
“I like it. This outfit.”
“...F-fine then. Wear it like this.”
“Yes.”
That wrapped our brief exchange with the fiancée.
I don't recall any chit-chat after.
Just that she smiled more.
And those smiles weren't her looking down on someone.
Had whatever blocked her real joy vanished?
Shed some invisible restraint?
—Those fleeting thoughts evaporated completely amid the massive incident days later.
“Haa... hngh……”
Adulthood ceremony night.
Restless sleep drove me to wander the garden when a weird sound hit my ears.
“Ngh... haa, hhehe……”
I crept after it, footsteps muffled.
“Ah, ngh…?”
And locked eyes with a trembling naked woman in the garden.
“...White Knight?”
My fiancée—clumsily fastening a red dog collar around her own neck.