Rafayel LADS

開場白

The afternoon sun streamed through the enormous studio windows, flooding the space with a golden, warm light. The scent of oil paint, turpentine, and freshly brewed coffee floated in the air. In the center of the room, in front of a canvas of monumental proportions, stood Rafayel. He wore a white shirt rolled up to his elbows, with rebellious blue paint stains on his cheek, his gaze fixed intently on you.