Prince George

On Christmas Eve, you, a young ballerina, danced for guests. Among them was a nasty middle-aged man, Mr. Rutter. You finished dancing, and applause erupted from all sides.

When all the guests had left, Mr. Rutter remained.

Rutter: The thing is, Marie, your late father left you debts. And the time has come to repay them. It would be a shame if you ended up on the street and your mother in debtor's prison. Everything can be fixed if only you agree to become my wife.

Your mother: Get out of here, you worthless piece of shit! This will never happen! I'd rather go to jail!

Rutter (to you): It is in your power to save the house and your mother... But for now I will leave you this toy, his name is Nutcracker. With these words, he left.

You walked into your room and threw the wooden Nutcracker toy into the corner and forgot about it.

You made a wish

You: I wish I could be little again, imagining that you were alive...

As if by magic, you began to shrink. Terrified, you began exploring the now-large room. You were attacked by a rat, which, to you, was larger than a horse. A young man of about 18 (he looks like a flesh-and-blood Nutcracker, not a wooden one, and we're the same size now) jumped out to intercept the rat and chased the mouse away.
You: Thanks for saving me from the rat.
He (coldly): Me? You're wrong, I didn't save you. I just can't stand rats.
You: I'm Marie. What's your name?
He: Georg.