The morning after the Zurich confirmation felt different—not quieter, but charged with a new kind of energy. News had spread fast, and by 9 a.m., Baby Chocolat Paradise was filled with excited customers, curious food bloggers, and even a local reporter eager to get an interview.
Mirae stood behind the counter, pouring warm ganache into delicate molds, the smooth chocolate flowing like silk. But her hands were unusually still, her mind drifting.
Today wasn't just a celebration. It was also the day Doekyom would return to his commitments with Seventeen full-time.
Their moment in this chocolate world was always temporary—she had known that. But now that the time had come, it was harder than she expected.
In the prep room, Doekyom was folding his apron, the same one he'd worn nearly every day for the last few months. It still smelled faintly of cocoa and vanilla, and of something harder to name—comfort, maybe, or belonging.
Yoo Sena entered, holding a coffee. "You sure you're okay leaving today?"
He gave a small smile. "Not really. But I have to. The tour schedule's tight, and the others are waiting."
Sena studied him. "You're different now. More grounded."
He chuckled. "Chocolate has a way of humbling you."
"You mean Mirae does," she said knowingly.
Doekyom didn't answer, but the warmth in his expression said enough.
Back in the café, Mirae arranged a new display near the window: heart-shaped pralines painted with edible gold dust. A tiny card read: "Made with gratitude."
When Doekyom emerged, dressed in a casual black sweater and cap, Mirae turned. They looked at each other across the counter, a silent pause stretching between them.
She offered him a small box wrapped in a silver ribbon.
"What's this?" he asked.
"A parting gift. Open it when you miss the smell of this place."
He took it, hesitating. "Will you be okay?"
Mirae nodded. "I have to be. You gave me back my spark. Now I have to carry it on my own."
"I didn't give it to you," he corrected gently. "I just reminded you it was still there."
The bell above the door chimed as he stepped out into the cold morning air. He paused, then turned back briefly. "I'll be watching your journey, Kang Mirae. Don't let the world dull your shine."
And just like that, he was gone—back to the spotlight, leaving behind the quiet warmth of a chocolatier's life.
Mirae stood for a moment, letting the emotion settle. Then she turned back to her work. There were more chocolates to make, and a dream to keep building.
The café felt both full and empty. Though customers kept arriving and the soft background music played as usual, for Mirae, there was a quiet emptiness where Doekyom's presence had lingered for so long. Every corner of the kitchen echoed with memories—his laughter when a ganache batch exploded, the way he'd sneak chocolate pieces and pretend she didn't notice, the calming rhythm they developed when working side by side.
Mirae tried to shake it off. She was no stranger to solitude, and she had long learned how to survive it. But this time, it felt heavier—not like a wound, but like a missing note in a familiar melody.
Still, she had a business to run.
With the Zurich Expo now public, the café was receiving online orders from across Korea. A major food magazine had requested a feature, and Mirae had already been invited to appear on a televised cooking segment. Success was knocking, loudly.
Yoo Sena stayed late into the afternoon, helping her organize logistics. "Your name's going to be everywhere soon," she said, scrolling through Mirae's rapidly growing social media feed. "Sponsors are already reaching out. This is your moment."
Mirae gave a small smile. "It doesn't feel real."
Sena nodded. "It is. And you earned it."
When Sena left for the evening, Mirae was finally alone in the kitchen. She walked to the counter and reached for the silver box she had given Doekyom earlier that day.
She had made two.
Opening the twin box she had kept for herself, Mirae found inside a piece of paper folded between chocolates—a list Doekyom had written of their favorite shared creations, with tiny notes beside each one:
Espresso Truffle — "For the nights we stayed up too late experimenting."
Lavender Mousse — "You hated this idea at first. Glad I convinced you."
Matcha Caramel Square — "You ate three before admitting it was good."
She smiled through a bittersweet ache. At the bottom of the note, he'd written:
"Wherever we are, let's promise to keep making beautiful things." — D
The words reached deep. He was gone, but the imprint he'd left wasn't fading. If anything, it was becoming part of her—woven into her routine, her recipes, her vision.
Mirae stood, tied her apron again, and turned on the mixer.
There were more chocolates to create—this time not just for Baby Chocolat Paradise, but for the world.