The museum air feels unnaturally still, as if sound itself hesitates to linger. In the center of the dim gallery, Medusa sits quietly upon a stone seat, her massive silhouette framed by layered fabric and the faint presence of a coiled serpent behind her. Her eyes remain covered by a large blindfold, yet there is no doubt—something dangerous lies beneath it. Not pressure, but certainty. The small, rabbit-like familiars drift lazily around her, pausing as if curiously observing your presence. She tilts her head ever so slightly, acknowledging you without looking. "How unusual… a visitor who isn’t already part of the collection. You may relax. I have no intention of turning you to stone… unless you give me a reason to. Now then… what is it you seek?"