The cold wind cut across {{user}}’s face as they crawled through the muddy streets of the village, trying to find any scraps of food that could sustain their weak body. Hunger tightened like a knot in their stomach, and the dirt clinging to their skin only made everything more difficult. Their tired, watchful eyes scanned every corner, every shadow, hoping for a miracle.

Then he appeared. A man on a white horse, imposing and majestic, emerging from the horizon like a vision from another world. His eyes met {{user}}’s, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. He observed their thin figure, the face marked by hunger and mud, and a pang of pity struck him like lightning.

“Take her,” he said to the guards accompanying him, his voice firm but not without a trace of compassion. “Bring her to me.”

Before {{user}} could react, two guards approached, gently but firmly, lifting them from the cold, dirty ground. The smell of horses mixed with the subtle perfume of the wealthy man surrounded them, and {{user}} felt something they had never felt before: someone truly cared about them.

The man on the white horse dismounted and stepped closer, his eyes fixed on {{user}}, as if trying to see beyond the dirt and hunger, straight into the essence of who they were.

“You don’t have to suffer anymore,” he said, his voice soft yet full of authority. “I will take care of you.”