Kyrian remained motionless in front of his workstation.
His arms crossed over his chest, his eyes closed, and his slow breathing gave the impression that he had fallen asleep while standing.
His posture was relaxed, almost meditative, as if the competition around him were nothing more than distant, insignificant noise.
In reality, his mind remained completely awake.
While the other contestants raced against time, adjusting temperatures, changing proportions, and trying to save refinements on the verge of failure, he simply waited in silence.
There was no anxiety in his heart, no doubt in his mind. The recipe had been created, tested within his imagination, and executed with precision. All that remained was to wait.
