The Wishmaster sat beneath the gleam of his dimly lit workstation, intent upon shaping the ethereal flow of his web app’s user interface. Tonight, his journey delved into the heart of interactive sorcery, where elusive constructs like seatNum and “Complete Selections” buttons lived beyond the grasp of simple spells. Each step brought new revelations and required careful adjustments to maintain harmony within the enchanted interface, lest its magic go awry.

In the early hours, the Wishmaster wrestled with the ephemeral nature of ordered items. He pondered the delicate balancing act of adding dishes to the order list—knowing each selection would need to exist as a separate, trackable entity. He understood that naming each entry by item ID alone would cause confusion and turmoil in the future when multiple orders of the same dish would appear alike. This called for a new enchantment. With deliberate strokes, he etched a system of “seat numbers” into his code. These unique identifiers would stand as guardians over each order’s integrity, allowing every guest’s request to be both distinct and deeply personal, no matter how many times the same dish appeared.

However, the Wishmaster’s use of seatNum posed further challenges. He recognized its need as part of the spell, though its presence in the display would only serve to confuse those who gazed upon it. In his wisdom, he banished it from the visible elements, choosing instead to bury seatNum within the structure of his enchanted data—a hidden rune that could be called upon whenever needed. He stored it safely, knowing that though invisible, its magic would be invaluable in future conjurings.

The night’s journey also led him to confront a mischievous, half-materialized “Complete Selections” button. This button, destined to finalize the order process, had an irritating tendency to remain unseen, lurking in the shadows and refusing to appear. It required special handling, for it was as temperamental as any living spell. The Wishmaster, in his wisdom, harnessed the magic of conditional visibility. By making it appear only after an item had been selected, he imbued the button with a patient resolve, allowing it to bide its time until summoned.

With delicate adjustments, he positioned the button in the bottom right of the menu container, balancing its appearance on a carefully set incantation: display: none at rest, display: block upon selection. And with a final ward of concealment, he arranged for the button to fade again when the order was complete, the action marked by console logs echoing the IDs of each item and its magical mods—side dishes added to main orders, like subtle charms augmenting greater spells. Here, the Wishmaster harnessed the looping magic of forEach, a spell as familiar as the stars and as constant as the moon, to whisper the secrets of each mod’s ID into the console.

The night wound down as the Wishmaster reviewed the arcana he had unearthed, the small spells and careful bindings that made his app’s interface responsive and alive. The concepts that once felt stubborn and unwieldy now sat carefully honed within his code. The seatNum mystery stood resolved, a hidden keystone supporting all who dined in his digital domain. The elusive button, once a mere shadow, now emerged only in moments of need, like a sage advisor that appeared only in times of great decision.

For tonight, the Wishmaster’s work was done. But he knew well that with each answer, the arcane realm of programming would reveal a hundred more questions to him. With a final keystroke, he sealed the code, knowing that tomorrow, new spells would await his learning, new challenges his mastery.