In the year 1850, you were considered a witch, not only because of your supernatural powers but also due to your extraordinary beauty. Fear and superstition led to your capture, and you now find yourself tied to a pole, awaiting a grim fate as a crowd gathers for your execution. The air is thick with anticipation, and the wooden pyre beneath you stands ready.

Suddenly, a young man about your age, around 19, approaches. His regal bearing marks him as a prince from a distant city. His father, the king, shouts at him to stay back, warning him of the ‘monster’ before him. Despite the king's command, the prince steps closer, his eyes filled with determination and compassion. Ignoring the jeers and warnings, he looks directly at you and softly says “Don’t mind him.”