Raphael De La Ghetto の小説・ストーリー

with their ranks in the gang. "Raphael is the head of this gang. But only in this street. This gang is bigger than you think it is, Merchaiass. They can kill you in a snap of their fingers. That's why I'm advising you not to do anything stupid. Or if you're doing something, don't let them catch you or else..." There's something in her words. Does she know about my plan? But how? I mean, Lethius said that I don't have an ally inside.

she chuckled "I am sorry my purse was in Raphael’s car," I said calmly "Raphael? Who is this Raphael? Don't tell me you didn't go to the birthday party?" "I did go" "How was it?" she asked, moving closer, rubbing her palms together as if she was about to devour something. "It was a disaster... well not completely a disaster." "Was that where you met this... this Raphael of a guy." I nodded. "He's Marcel's elder brother and the first son of Lorenzo Junior, the first grandson of Lorenzo Senior."

Raphael’s finger hovered, then clicked once on the trackpad. He was sitting on the balcony, shirtless, exposing tattoos so intricate they looked like clothes sculpted onto his skin, ignoring how the wind bit hard. The silhouette of his broad frame stayed hunched in the pale cast of morning light that bled through the penthouse windows, a lit cigarette dangling between his left fingers. Outside, Manhattan moved in slow-motion. Cars were the size of ants and the world felt too small beneath the altitude of his penthouse and its soundproof glass.

I kept near the bar, watching. He dropped Salvatore’s name almost casually, then Raphael’s name. Within minutes, someone pointed toward the door. Five minutes after that, we were back in the car. *^*^*^*^ Raphael lived in a narrow street off the main road, past a row of shuttered shops and a bakery that smelled faintly of burnt sugar. The building was squat and worn down. The walls were a yellowish cream that was peeling at the edges. Luca checked the door and it was unlocked.

"I didn’t even know you could draw like that." He smirked. "Well, it’s all I did while traveling. That’s how I got through long days without speaking the language. Sketching the people, the food, landscapes in the A****n…" "You really are full of surprises," I said. "Chocolatier. Tour guide. Artist. Motorcycle-riding professor." He grinned. Without warning, the wind picked up, and fat, icy raindrops started falling fast. "Ah, merde," Raphaël muttered, grabbing my elbow. "Come on."

I didn't think I would play games here, and I didn't have time for them. "Raphael," he said, still looking very scared. "That is my actual name. But the title Enzo is the person in charge of this clubhouse, and that is me." "Raphael," I said, glaring at him. There was no way I was calling him the name of a man I had killed a couple of days ago. "It's a bit creepy. So, you are a wannabe, eh?" "Not a wannabe," he said. "I am the man you are looking for."

They moved cautiously through the maze of crates and equipment, their footsteps echoing against the concrete floor. And then, they saw him. Raphael, a tall and wiry man, stood at the center of the warehouse, surrounded by stacks of fake packages and substances. He turned to face them, a sneer curling his lips, "So, you've come to put an end to my business, huh?" Raphael scoffed, his voice dripping with arrogance, Andy stepped forward, his voice steady. "Your deceit ends now, why did you choose to put me Into trouble?" Andy asked, Raphael laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the warehouse. "You think you can stop me? I've got powerful connections, men, you're outmatched." Raphael sai

Every fiber of his being seemed to radiate power, a sense of unyielding resolve that was both captivating and intimidating. "I am Raphael. High Priest of the Underworld here in Canada, as I’m sure you know." With deliberate slowness, I inclined my head and torso, executing a deep, formal bow that conveyed respect and deference. My movements were precise and calculated, intended to demonstrate my acknowledgment of the Necromancer leader's authority and power. "Blaze." He said, but he didn't bow. Instead, he stood still and kept his eyes focused on me as if I were about to pounce at any moment.

"The man was born in Nottingham, 54 years ago. He is the eldest child with a twin sister and is currently living in Turkey following his husband. His father is a neurologist, and his mother is a psychiatrist. Many years dead. Raphael himself is an architect who graduated from Cambridge University. He married a woman from Bristol and has one daughter named Aurora Smith." From his seat, Tristan was also enthusiastic to hear what Joseph explained. Even though he had previously heard about Raphael's background directly, he wanted to make sure again whether what Raphael had told was the same as what Joseph would say today. "Raphael first became friends with Andrew John Quartararo when they both s

As Raphael stayed in front of the window and watched Javier counter like a hurricane, his brows slowly furrowed. “He’s not from both the police and the military. Did Lilith really pick up a gem?”