In truth, no one would have dared call him an idiot when Douwe Rollin was just born. For a time, he was even thought likely to become a genius of the Rollin family.
Three years ago, when Douwe had come into the world from the Countess's womb, he had given the maids responsible for his delivery quite a fright.
He did not cry or make a sound, and he never needed to be soothed by adults. His daily routine was more regular than a grown man's: he woke at a fixed hour, opened his mouth to eat on time, and slept punctually each day. Apart from opening his mouth to eat, the child barely uttered a sound. The only thing he did every day was stare blankly… with his eyes wide and empty.
He rarely even wet the bed. He learned to ring the small bell beside his cradle gently. After a while, whenever the bell rang from Young Master Douwe's cradle, the maids would rush over at once with his chamber pot. Such behavior made the whole household praise the young master for his early intelligence, certain he would grow into a genius of the Rollin family.
Unfortunately, the label of "genius" lost its luster over him in less than half a year… because he could not speak.
Other children his age could already babble or utter simple words like "Papa," "Mama," or "Potty." But Young Master Douwe's mouth seemed sealed by a powerful magician's curse. No matter how hoarse the Countess grew from teaching him to speak, not a single sound would come out.
Even a born mute could at least whimper or grunt, yet this young master was silent as a stone. When cold, hot, hungry, or in need of relief, he only rang the bell.
By the age of three, the young master still had not spoken a word. The Countess consulted countless skilled physicians, and even invited several renowned magicians to check if her son had fallen under some magical curse—but all to no avail. In the end, even the ever-optimistic Countess could only sigh sadly. It seemed her son was an idiot.
Thankfully, little three-year-old Douwe did learn to walk. Though he still stumbled, he was no different from other children his age in that regard.
But a child who did not cry, laugh, or speak, and spent all his days staring blankly… there was no other way to explain it but that he was an idiot.
Then, a month ago, a violent storm struck. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the sky, rain pouring down in sheets. It was said the Grand Canal outside the imperial capital had nearly burst its banks. And a strange incident occurred in the Count's manor.
Young Master Douwe had slipped out of his room while the maid watching him was distracted. He stood alone in the courtyard in the rain, staring blankly up at the sky. Amid the flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder, the child showed no fear at all—perhaps an idiot knew nothing of fear.
Instead, he clenched his tiny fists and suddenly let out a loud wail toward the sky!
Having not spoken a word for three years, the young master stood in the rain, screaming wildly at the bolts of lightning. The rain poured down over his small body. When the servants found him, he was soaked to the bone, shivering violently, his face pale and his lips bitten purple.
The Countess rushed over at the news and fainted on the spot. The servants scrambled to carry both the young master and the Countess inside. The Countess woke quickly, then held her unconscious son and wept bitterly. The summoned physicians fussed over him endlessly, feeding him all kinds of medicine, and two magicians were brought in to cast Light Healing spells on him for a long time.
Still, the child's body grew colder and colder. The Countess went mad with worry and rushed to the Temple of the Goddess of Light in the imperial capital. She begged a high-ranking black-robed priest to personally cast the Goddess's Blessing on her son. Meanwhile, the Countess knelt before the statue of the Goddess in the temple all night, praying ceaselessly for her boy.
Only by the next day did the child's body finally warm up, his tiny life saved. He remained unconscious for another day and night. During his coma, the Countess barely ate or slept, holding him tightly. By the second day, her beautiful face was haggard and worn.
Suddenly, Douwe spoke in his sleep. His eyes were closed, but he mumbled several syllables as if talking in his dreams. No one could make out what he meant—surely the idiotic young master, still unable to speak, was only babbling meaningless baby talk.
Yet the Countess burst into tears of joy. She leaned over her son and listened for a long while, finally catching something. She turned to the trembling servants and said softly:
"Among those who usually attend the young master, is there one named Mad?"
The servants exchanged confused looks. Finally, one brave soul stepped forward and bowed: "Madam, there is no one by that name among the servants caring for the young master…"
The entire manor was searched, and a stable boy named Mad was found tending to the horses. He was immediately brought before the Countess.
"My son called your name even in his sleep… Mad… I do not know why, but this must be a divine sign from the Goddess of Light. By her grace, you shall no longer tend horses. From today on, you will serve by the young master's side."
Mad was overjoyed. Overnight, he had risen from the lowest stable boy to a personal servant of the young master in the Count's manor. A bright future seemed to stretch out before him!
Little did Douwe know, as he lay unconscious, that he had nearly lost his life by rushing outside in a fit of anger, shouting at the sky and getting caught in the rain. Nor did he know that simply muttering "Damn it" twice in his coma had brought another man such great fortune.
Young Master Douwe's serious illness lasted a full month. His already frail young body grew weaker, and it was a month before color returned to his pale face.
Yet, as before, the young master still did not speak. Not a single sound had left his mouth since he woke. Even Mad, the servant he had "chosen" in his sleep, received no special favor. The boy did nothing but stare blankly all day.
The only change was this: when the maids occasionally mentioned how the Countess had held him without sleep or rest for two days and nights during his illness, and how she had knelt before the Goddess's statue all night praying for him…
After that, whenever the Countess came to visit her son, she noticed that the boy's previously empty eyes held a touch of warmth when they fell upon her.