The Navarro Coffee booth looked like a battlefield. Lanterns still glowed overhead, music still played faintly from the plaza’s stage, but chaos lingered here—the heart of the café’s stand. Paper cups crushed underfoot, caramel syrup streaking the counter, steam rising from a machine knocked half off its place. The rival chain’s crew had retreated, their flashy lights and smug CEO disappearing into the night. However, the wreckage remained like scars carved into the festival.

Celine ...