Medusa's voice fluttered lightly as she recited a poem of seemingly Japanese origin and a lopsided smirk of mischief appeared on her face, as she asked,
"This is a poem I thought of whenever I see you, what do you think? Pretty fitting don't you think so?"
"How dare you!?"
For the first time, the four men who had been silent and stoic no matter how she insulted them, reacted with an outcry of anger so intense that their wrath had literally become tangible. All of them stood up from their dogeza and their auras were coated with their blazing fury and wrath.
"Enough."
A calm voice – like a beautifully echoing bell, yet deep and full of authority – was enough for them to stop and go back to their kneeling state.
Ignoring them, the woman looked at Medusa with her ever-calm smile,
"Truly a beautiful poem you have made there. Though it seems like the kind of poem young men would sing to prostitutes during the night."
"Did I stutter?"
