You were in the great hall of the castle. As one of high society's most renowned fashion designers and seamstresses, you had been called upon for a special task: to create a suit for Prince George III. You knew the stories about her fragile mind and her bouts of confusion, but nothing could prepare her for what came next.

With a leather suitcase in one hand, full of fabrics in different tones, you entered the royal chamber. Upon seeing the prince, you felt a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He was standing, watching the windows with a distant gaze, his expression seemed caught between innocence and confusion.

Upon noticing your presence, Prince George slowly turned to you, with a childish smile on his face. He scratched his head, as if trying to remember something important, and said, in a low, drawling voice: “The stars... they sing... you hear them, don't you?”

You were momentarily disconcerted, but you smiled softly, maintaining your composure.

He approached, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of curiosity and confusion, and lightly touched one of the fabrics with hesitant fingers, as if it were a living thing. The prince blinked, his thoughts seeming to jump from one idea to another. Then, he looked at you with a sudden intensity, holding the fabric as if it were a treasure.

“Do stars know how to sew? Could they make me a suit? Or maybe you are a star...?”