Charlie didn't hesitate. He tapped his phone, felt the satisfying ding of approval, and walked out with the gold-foiled box. That night, he ate the first four. They tasted like cherry, oak, and financial freedom.

"Monsieur," Charlie gasped, "You’ve joined the digital age?"

Charlie was a man of exquisite taste and an unfortunately empty wallet. He lived for the "Velvet Midnight" truffles from Monsieur Dupont’s shop—chocolates so dark they practically absorbed the light in the room.