The countdown to the start of the last round ticked the timer of a bomb. No one could stop it, reverse it, or slow it down. Each tick dragged the participants helpless and nervous to the allotted time. Even Cole Donovan could no longer avoid it; the beating of his own heart pounded with futility against its cage. It’s now or never. All the sleepless weeks he had sacrificed just to get the perfect skills, the perfect taste, and the perfect texture, would finally get its result after this round. Arion Hook’s voice brought him back to his senses, “The last round for this year’s annual culinary competition will start in three—” Then the audience started the count down with him. “Two-!” “One!” “Lift the cover of the box and start baking your devil’s cake!” All the participants lifted the