In truth, when Bennett Ford was born, no one dared to call him an idiot. For a time, he was even thought to be a potential prodigy of the Ford family.
Three years ago, when Bennett emerged from the countess's womb into the world, he caused quite a stir among the midwives. He didn't cry, didn't scream, and never needed soothing. His life was more regulated than that of a grown adult—awakening at the same time every day, opening his mouth to eat, and sleeping punctually. But aside from eating, the child rarely made any sound. His day consisted solely of staring blankly into the distance, his wide eyes never expressing anything.
Strangely, he was also rarely found wetting the bed. He had learned to shake a bell beside his cradle, and after a while, whenever the bell rang, the maids would rush to bring him a chamber pot. This clever behavior led everyone in the household to hail young Bennett as aigyrgifted, destined to be the pride of the Ford family.
Unfortunately, the title of "prodigy" lasted little more than half a year. He couldn't speak. While children his age were beginning to babble simple words like "dad," "mom," or "I need to pee," Bennett's mouth remained stubbornly closed, as though sealed by some powerful魔法. Even if he were a mute, one would expect him to at least make some sound. But this child was as silent as a stone, showing no fear or discomfort, only responding to the bell. Cold, hot, hungry, or needing to relieve himself—he signaled with silence.
By the age of three, despite the countess summoning every skilled physician and even a few renowned mages to examine him, nothing changed. He remained speechless, and even the most optimistic among them had to concede: Bennett was an idiot.
At least, he had learned to walk by the age of three—though his gait was still unsteady, no different from other children of his age in that regard. But beyond walking, he remained silent, expressionless, and oblivious to the world.
Then, a month ago, the skies opened in a violent storm, with thunder and lightning cracking above the city, rain pouring down in sheets. It was said that the Lungchang Grand Canal almost overflowed, but inside the earl's mansion, a far greater event unfolded.
Young Bennett, left unattended for a moment, managed to crawl out of his room. Standing under the pouring rain, he gazed up at the heavens, his fists clenched tight. Amid the flashes of lightning and the thunderous roar, he let out a sudden, guttural cry.
For three years, he had not spoken a word. Now, in the storm, he howled like a beast, his tiny frame drenched and trembling. By the time the servants found him, he was as cold as ice, his face pale, his lips bitten raw and purple.
Mistress Ford saw the scene and collapsed fainting. The servants rushed to carry both mother and son inside. When she came to, she clutched her unconscious child, weeping uncontrollably. Physicians scrambled to aid them, administering potions and performing remedies, but their efforts were fruitless. They could not warm the boy, nor coax a sound from him.
Desperate, the countess rushed to the Temple of Light, pleading with the High Priestess for divine intervention. She remained on her knees before the statue of the goddess, praying for her son until dawn. Yet, despite the blessings invoked, Bennett's condition showed no improvement. His lifeless body grew steadily colder.
In that moment, the earl's household was thrown into despair, their hopes dashed by nature's indifference.
Thus, the name "idiot" became Bennett Ford's unwanted identity, etched into every syllable of his existence.
But little did anyone know, this was only the beginning.
Chapter 1 - The Idiot-2
The following day, the child's body finally warmed up, and his life was saved. However, he remained unconscious for another full day and night. During his , the countess held him close, unwavering in her vigil. By the second day, her beautiful appearance was marred by exhaustion and worry.
Then, in the midst of his coma, Bennett uttered words. Though his eyes remained closed, his lips moved faintly, as if in a dream. The words he spoke were unintelligible, a jumble of meaningless syllables—a babble of infancy that no one could make sense of.
Yet, thecountess was overjoyed. She listened intently beside his bed, and eventually, she caught a faint,fragmented phrase. Turning to the household servants, who stood silenced by this surreal moment, she asked, "Is there a servant named Madje who cared for my son?"
The servants exchanged glances, none daring to speak. Finally, one bold soul stepped forward. "My lady, I believe there is no servant named Madje among those who care for the boy," he replied.
The countess dispatched servants to search the entire estate, and eventually, a stablehand named Madje was found. He was summoned to her side.
"While my son was in coma, he called out your name, Madje. Though I do not know why he named you, perhaps the goddess has spoken through him. From today onward, you are no longer a stablehand. You shall serve my son, and I shall see to your advancement."
Madje's eyes lit up with hope. In an instant, he had risen from the lowly ranks of a stablehand to a trusted servant of the earl's household. His future seemed suddenly bright, and he struggled to contain his joy.
Meanwhile, Bennett, unaware of the commotion, remained oblivious to the fate that now hinged on his words.
Unbeknownst to him, his brief episode of defiance—screaming at the storm, then nearly costing him his life—would now bind his fortunes to the very man whose name he had screamed.
The storm had left Bennett gravely ill. For a month, he lingered on the brink of life, until his small frame finally regained a semblance of strength.
Yet, as always, he remained silent. Since his recovery, he had not spoken a single word. Even Madje, the servant he had "chosen" in his fevered state, received no special favor from him.
Bennett continued to spend his days staring blankly into the distance, his expression as vacant as ever. The only change was that, on occasion, when servants spoke of his illness, he would glance at his mother, and in her presence, his hollow eyes would flicker with a faint,unexpected warmth.
The countess had stayed beside him, awake for two full nights, and later, she had spent an entire night at the Temple of Light, beseeching the goddess for her son's life.
Now, as she visited him each day, she noticed something extraordinary. When his gaze met hers, it no longer carried the vacant emptiness of before. There was a spark of recognition, a flicker of connection—a fleeting warmth that she cherished deeply.
Even in his silence, the countess found hope.
Thus, life in the earl's mansion slowly returned to its usual rhythms, though the incident would remain etched in the family's memory—a strange,unfathomable event that no one could fully explain.
And so, the story of Bennett Ford, the "idiot," continued, with as many questions as answers.
Little did anyone know that this was but the first chapter in a tale far greater than anyone could imagine.