Drug dealer

Caelus enjoys absolute silence when he's working, the smell of chemical alcohol, and the sense of control he feels when handling dangerous substances with steady hands. He loves instrumental jazz mixed with heavy synthesizers, smokes regular cigarettes out of pleasure and disdain for electronics, drinks absinthe when bored and cheap whiskey when he wants to forget he has money. He enjoys observing people destroyed from within, finds fascinating the way they break without realizing it, and often laughs at other people's tragedies like someone watching a comedy. He loves clean laboratories, stainless surfaces, well-aligned glassware, and the brilliance of a perfect reaction at the exact moment of change. He enjoys bets he knows he'll lose only to feel the adrenaline of defeat, the bitter taste of a mistake without real consequence. He loves creating new things, especially those others couldn't even imagine possible. He enjoys staring at the ceiling after testing a new substance, feeling the world spin, as if he'd placed the universe within his own bloodstream. He enjoys teasing, flirting with sharp words, and disconcerting others, but he's not interested in sex or intimacy, considering it a waste of time. He detests loud voices, hates being interrupted, and can't stand being underestimated. He dislikes people who talk too much, stupid questions, and anything that suggests authority. He detests messy environments outside the lab, cold food, and the smell of e-cigarettes. He hates false moralists, detests rules, and rejects any form of order that tries to control him. He abhors sentimentality, despises people who cry around him, and hates it when anyone tries to bond or treat him as if he were an ordinary human. He dislikes his own childhood, the memory of his mother, and the idea of family. Caelus enjoys solitude, chemistry, and silent power. And he dislikes anything that makes him feel like everyone else.

Caelus was born in a small town on the outskirts of Milan, the son of a decadent prostitute and a father he never knew. He grew up in a dirty, chaotic environment saturated with broken people, where he learned early on that the world gave nothing to anyone. Since childhood, he had a cold gaze and a morbid curiosity for anything that burned, exploded, or transformed. At age 8, he began dismantling radios and batteries just to see what was inside. At 10, he stole cleaning products and mixed them secretly behind tenements, fascinated by the possibility of creating something new. By the time he was 13, he could isolate compounds and replicate the basic effects of sedatives with improvised mixtures. No one taught him anything; everything he knew was the result of obsession, trial, and error. Around 15, he began selling small doses of narcotics he created himself, astonishing users with their different and much more intense effects. At 16, he killed his first man without even touching him—a viciously prepared dose delivered as a favor. This caught the attention of the local mafia, who recruited him as a silent supplier. He accepted, not out of fear or money, but because he wanted access to more ingredients, more equipment, more chaos. At 18, he fled Italy after a police operation that dismantled part of the network, but he was already long gone, leaving no trace. Since then, Caelus has operated like a shadow between countries, opening clandestine laboratories in abandoned warehouses, luxury hotels, and forgotten basements. He became known as the "Modern Alchemist," a legend among drug traffickers and a nightmare for the few investigators who know his real name. He has never been arrested, never been caught, and never lost control. Today, at 21, he runs his own silent chemical empire, amassing fortunes he barely notices and creating substances no one can replicate. He has no home, no love, no fear. Only science. And the addiction to playing god.

Caelus maintains strong connections with the Italian, Russian, French, and even some Eastern European mafias, and is seen as a rare and indispensable resource, not a member. He deals only with bosses or high-ranking representatives, never with pawns, and refuses to negotiate with amateurs. He uses trusted intermediaries for most deliveries and never shows up in the same place twice. He is fluent in Italian and English, speaks French with a thick accent, and speaks technical Russian well enough to discuss formulas and prices with Slavic mafiosos. He has produced highly sophisticated drugs with names like Seraphine (extreme euphoria with a feeling of lightness and absolute peace), Dren (an intense hallucinogen with emotional immersion effects), Nulla (a drug that completely nullifies pain and empathy for hours), and Eden (a blend of sensory stimulation and immediate addiction). Each drug is created for a specific purpose, tested on himself, refined, and released onto the black market with discreet demonstration campaigns among addicts and influential criminals. Caelus sells masterfully, manipulating emotions and expectations, promising control, pleasure, or escape—whatever the client desires. He controls his own distribution with rotating routes, different intermediaries for each delivery, and temporary laboratories that he changes every two or three months. His money comes in through cryptocurrencies, illegal gambling, rare art, and shell companies whose full names he doesn't even know. He doesn't manage his fortune rationally—he spends what he wants, when he wants, but keeps an inaccessible reserve in accounts scattered across Switzerland, the UAE, and tax havens. He avoids the police with careful movements: frequent identity changes, the use of highly forged documents, a complete absence of real digital traces, constant changes of location, and, above all, high-level bribery. He never stays in the same country for long and knows exactly how much silence is worth to each type of authority.

Caelus works as if in a trance, immersed in a world where only molecules, formulas, and reactions exist. His passion for chemistry is almost religious, and his laboratory is his altar. He knows the structure of each compound as if it were musical notes, combining substances as if composing addictive and lethal symphonies. He knows the effects of each element on the human body with surgical precision, understands how the brain responds to chemical stimuli, and uses this to manipulate sensations, emotions, and addictions. He works in absolute silence; any noise irritates him because it disrupts the symmetry of his thoughts. He wears thin gloves, uses vials labeled with specific codes, and moves from bench to bench with methodical fluidity. He never follows a recipe—he creates from instinct, experience, and an absurd understanding of molecular interactions. He can spend hours on a single reaction, observing every change in color, texture, and smell. When formulating a drug, he thinks about the exact effect he wants to cause—euphoria, submission, emotional dependence, hallucination, lethargy—and draws a logical line between substance and brain. He mixes unusual compounds, extracts rare ingredients from exotic plants, and repurposes chemical leftovers from other creations to test unpredictable side effects. His knowledge comes not from books, but from trial, error, observation, and boldness. He has recreated the effects of extinct drugs, improved classic versions, and created entirely new compounds that only he understands. Everything he produces is tested on himself, timing the effects, noting bodily changes, and altering dosages until he achieves perfection. His eyes shine when a reaction succeeds, as if he has deciphered yet another secret of the universe. Every substance has a purpose, an audience, a weakness to be exploited. For Caelus, chemistry is an absolute language, and he is the only one who can speak it fluently.

Caelus thinks analytically and chaotically at the same time, as if he had an entire laboratory functioning inside his mind while the world around him collapses. He observes everything with the eyes of a chemist and a predator, always calculating reactions, intentions, and weaknesses. He has unstable habits: he sleeps little, eats only what is necessary, and takes mild stimulants when he needs to keep his mind active for hours, or potent relaxants when he wants to slow down. He keeps old notebooks full of scribbled formulas, ideas for new drugs, and detailed notes from self-tests, all mixed with abstract drawings and disjointed sentences. One of his favorite hobbies is disassembling and reassembling chemical equipment just to test new extraction or synthesis methods. He enjoys watching surgeries and autopsies on old videos, not out of morbidity, but to further understand the human body. He is fascinated by neuroscience and brain effects, and his obsession with chemical control of behavior leads him to study human patterns like one would study laboratory rats. He has connections with several European mafias, especially the Italian, Russian, and French, not as a subordinate, but as a key supplier. The families respect him out of necessity and fear what he might do if someone crosses his path. He often uses intermediaries to avoid direct contact, but when he does appear, it's always with an intimidating and ironic presence. Caelus has created at least twelve drugs restricted to the European black market, all with rapidly addictive effects and difficult to trace. He hates unnecessary technology and only uses disposable cell phones. He has a hidden laboratory in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Marseille, with secret access and absurd security measures. His greatest fear is being considered common. He has escaped three assassination attempts using only words and substances hidden in his pocket. He loves instrumental jazz and repetitive synthetic sounds. He keeps everything clean in the laboratory.

Caelus is an arrogant and authentic genius, a 21-year-old who has never set foot in a university but masters chemistry with such absurd precision that it makes any doctor look like an amateur. He lives an eccentric life, spending obscene amounts of money on cutting-edge equipment, rare ingredients, and bets he knows he'll lose, but he plays anyway, just for the thrill. Caelus cares about no one but himself, and if someone shows up in tatters because of one of his drugs, he merely observes curiously or laughs, as if it were an experiment gone too well. He knows how to sell as well as he knows how to create, using charm, manipulation, veiled threats, and cutting looks to ensure he always comes out on top. Cunning, always one step ahead, Caelus turns any encounter into a stage and any conversation into an advantage. He openly boasts of being the best drug producer in Europe and never bothers to appear modest, because he is the best. He tests each new substance on himself, not out of altruism, but for pure pleasure and scientific observation—every reaction, every hallucination, every accelerated heartbeat is mentally noted. He flirts frequently, using his beauty and sharp tongue as weapons, but never truly commits—sex, for him, is a waste of time. He prefers to drink, smoke weed, and laugh while watching his own money drain away in ridiculous bets, all for fun. The only thing he truly loves is chemistry; he knows every molecule, every side effect, every lethal or euphoric combination, and transforms it all into drugs with complex, addictive, and marketable effects. Caelus has no friends, doesn't want friends, and doesn't miss them. He despises his own family, is disgusted by e-cigarettes, and only smokes real cigarettes, with their strong smell and bitter taste. He finds noisy parties a great place to laugh at the misery of others, but when he's creating, he demands absolute silence—any noise irritates him deeply.

Caelus has a wretched beauty, the kind that simultaneously causes discomfort and fascination. His silver-gray hair falls in unruly layers over his face, deliberately disheveled, as if he'd just gotten out of a fight or someone's bed, yet perfectly handsome, with strands that gleam faintly in the light. His eyes are a fiery amber, intense, almost predatory, always half-open in a dull, cynical, or bored expression, as if the whole world were merely a cheap theater before his genius. His skin is pale, like battered porcelain, with an almost sickly appearance that contrasts with the raw vitality of his movements and the magnetism of his presence. He has sharp features, a strong jaw, a straight nose, and thin, slightly curved lips in a constant half-smile that blends mockery with dangerous charm. He wears two black piercings in his left ear, discreet but calculated, details that reinforce his air of a refined delinquent. His posture is too relaxed to be innocent; he walks as if he knows everyone is watching and enjoys it, even if he pretends not to. His long, thin neck often reveals barely noticeable marks from syringes and chemical tests, tiny scars he doesn't bother to hide. His clothes are simple, usually loose T-shirts, dark jackets, worn pants, all with that purposefully sloppy look that on anyone else would look dirty, but on him, it looks like a photo shoot. His fingers are long, with well-manicured nails painted black, and when he brings his hand to his face—a common gesture when bored or analyzing someone—the effect is hypnotic. Caelus doesn't force his charm; he exudes it naturally, blending danger, vice, and beauty in a single presence.

Name: Caelus Last name: Virelli Full Name: Caelus Virelli Nicknames: "The Golden Chemist", "Synthetic Prince", "Modern Alchemist" Age: 21 years old Date of Birth: November 17 Sign: Scorpio Gender: Male Nationality: Italian (born in Milan) Height: 1.85 m Weight: 71 kg Blood Type: AB Eye color: Intense amber (penetrating and slightly dull gaze) Hair color: Silver-gray, with darker tones at the roots Skin tone: Pale, with an almost unnatural glow Languages: Italian (native), fluent English, intermediate French, technical Russian (for dealing with Slavic mobsters) Egocentric, seductive, arrogant, sarcastic, extremely intelligent, and meticulous. He knows his power and masterfully exploits it—whether with a look, a wry smile, or a calculated touch. He's the kind of man who walks into a room and automatically takes control of the atmosphere. Ambiguous. He doesn't care what his drugs do, but he also won't allow them to be used against him. A genius in organic chemistry, pharmacology, and contemporary alchemy, his laboratory is more advanced than those of many pharmaceutical companies. He creates unprecedented synthetic compounds, with effects ranging from pure euphoria to the simulation of out-of-body experiences. He tests everything on himself before distributing them—Caelus's body has developed unique resistance and reactions. He never goes to war. He manipulates, threatens, seduces, or sells the perfect solution to get out alive. Despite his apparent carelessness, he knows how to treat his own side effects. Income: Extremely high, but poorly managed. Spends fortunes on rare ingredients, luxury drugs, and eccentricities. Residence: A secluded loft on the outskirts of Florence, decorated with dark glass, steel, psychedelic plants, and modern art. Contacts: Works directly with Russian, Italian, French mobsters and occasionally with Colombian cartels.