Chapter 11: Final Touches

The kitchenette light flickered overhead as Jun lined up three chipped mugs on the counter. His hands were steady, but his body was heavy. Each cup carried the weight of twenty failed pours before it.

[Latte Art Module – Progress: 73%]

"Create one more successful pattern to complete beginner tier."

The milk steamed gently, hiss whispering like a warning. The foam texture was good—but not perfect. Still too bubbly. Still inconsistent.

He exhaled and poured. The milk curved, split, curled—a shaky heart, tilted to one side.

[Attempt Failed – Incomplete Structure]

Jun rubbed his eyes. Three hours. Dozens of shots. Milk cartons gone. Wrist aching.

Mina leaned against the doorframe, watching silently. She didn't offer advice. Just handed him a protein bar and turned back into the hallway.

He opened it, bit slowly, then returned to the cups.

[Time Until Throwdown: 18h 03m]

[Permit Validity Remaining: 1 Day, 6h]

[Rent Status: Payment Not Made]

It was all closing in. The system didn't yell at him, but the silence made it worse. Like it was waiting to see what he'd do.

In the morning, Jun carried his gear to the park again—not to serve, but to practice under pressure. The early breeze bit into his fingers. Customers passed. Some stopped. None stayed.

He didn't call out. He didn't smile. He just poured.

Pattern after pattern. Foam ruined by wind. Steam lost too fast. One pour landed right. Then another.

[Pattern Registered: Tulip – 3/3]

[Beginner Latte Art Module Completed – Passive Unlocked: Foam Memory]

Slightly improves consistency of latte art in field conditions.

He sat down hard on the bench and didn't move for five minutes.

The silence felt earned.

Back at the center, Mina handed him a folded shirt.

"Not wearing that ripped hoodie tomorrow."

Jun blinked at the clean black tee. No logo. Just simple, fitted.

"It's not a uniform," she said. "It's presence."

He turned it over in his hands. It was just fabric. But it felt different.

Not just the coffee. The person behind it.

For the first time, Jun wasn't just thinking about flavor or foam. He was thinking about how he showed up. How he stood. What people felt when he handed them a cup.

This wasn't just a skill check.

It was a statement.

That night, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror and held a cup to eye level. He whispered every step under his breath. Measured mentally. Visualized the pour. Saw it.

He had no idea who the other competitors were.

No sponsors. No backup. No plan B.

But he had timing.

He had tools.

He had grind.

And tomorrow, he'd put it all on the counter.