The first few days of Clarity's new business model were quiet. Unsettlingly quiet. Mr. Kim's single, three-hundred-dollar case of water sat in his premium refrigerated section, its fifty-dollar price tag scaring away his usual clientele. The website, which Leo checked obsessively, registered zero sales.
Doubt began to creep into the edges of Leo's confidence. Had he overplayed his hand? Was fifty dollars not just audacious, but genuinely insane? He pushed the thoughts away, focusing on his work. He bottled his twenty cases a day, stockpiling them in his apartment which now resembled a miniature Amazon warehouse more than a home. He tended his garden in the Sanctum, where tiny green sprouts were now defiantly pushing their way through the dark soil. He had to trust the process.
On the fourth day, a glossy black Bentley, so out of place it looked like a spaceship, whispered to a halt in front of Mr. Kim's Corner Mart. The construction crew working across the street stopped what they were doing to gawk.
A woman emerged from the driver's side. She was in her late twenties, radiating an aura of casual, old-money elegance. She wore a simple cream-colored cashmere sweater, tailored trousers, and leather loafers that had clearly never touched a city puddle. Her name was Evelyn Hayes, and she was an architectural historian, a passion she could afford to pursue thanks to a substantial family trust fund.
Evelyn was in the neighborhood for a perfectly logical, if slightly eccentric, reason: she was documenting the pre-war terracotta facades on the older buildings before the new wave of glass-and-steel condo development erased them forever. While sketching the details on an old tenement, she overheard two of the construction workers, Frank and his buddy, arguing.
"...I'm telling you, it's worth it," Frank had said. "My back hasn't felt this good since I was thirty. It's like it resets you."
"Fifty bucks for water, Frank? My wife would kill me," the other had replied.
Evelyn's curiosity was piqued. She'd heard of ludicrously expensive wellness products before, usually pushed by her friend Jessica's circle of finance-obsessed socialites, but she'd never heard one being championed by grizzled construction workers. Intrigued, she'd asked them where they bought this miraculous fifty-dollar water. They pointed her to the unassuming corner store.
She glided into Mr. Kim's Mart, the bell's cheerful chirp a stark contrast to her refined presence. The store smelled of disinfectant and roasting hot dogs.
"Good afternoon," she said, her voice smooth and polished. "I was told you sell a particular brand of water here? Called Clarity?"
Mr. Kim looked up from his counter. He had sized her up the moment the Bentley door opened. He recognized the look of wealth that doesn't need to announce itself. He simply nodded toward the refrigerator.
Evelyn located the sleek glass bottle nestled between a jug of milk and a can of energy drink. She picked it up and looked at the simple, elegant label, then at the price tag Mr. Kim had affixed to the shelf. "$50."
She let out a soft, amused laugh. "You're serious."
"The price is the price," Mr. Kim said, his tone flat. He wasn't going to be intimidated.
"May I ask what justifies it?" she inquired, her curiosity genuine.
Mr. Kim decided this was a fish worth baiting. He reached under his counter, pulled out a small, clean paper cup, and a personal bottle of Clarity he now kept for himself. He poured an inch of the crystal-clear water into the cup and pushed it across the counter.
"Try it," he said.
Evelyn hesitated for a second, then gracefully accepted. She raised the small cup, observed the water's absolute lack of impurities, and took a small, delicate sip.
Her polite, amused expression melted away.
The water was… silent. That was the only word she could think of. It had no taste of minerals, no hint of processing, no whisper of the plastic or glass that contained it. It was simply the pure, platonic ideal of water. The coolness spread through her, but it was followed by that now-familiar, subtle, energetic warmth that defied explanation. She felt a fog of mild fatigue, one she hadn't even been aware of, begin to lift from her mind. It was as if her entire system had been running on low-quality fuel her whole life, and she'd just been given her first taste of premium.
"My goodness," she whispered, taking another sip. It wasn't just good. It was profound.
She looked at the twelve bottles sitting in the refrigerator. "I'll take all of them," she said, pulling a black credit card from her wallet.
Mr. Kim's heart gave a little flutter. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, and for the first time, he felt a genuine pang of regret. "I only have this case. My distributor has a very limited production capacity to protect the integrity of the source. This is all I'm allocated for the week."
Evelyn's disappointment was palpable. This wasn't something she was buying for a fad. The moment she tasted it, she thought of one person: her grandfather. He was a brilliant man, a titan of industry in his day, but age was catching up to him. He was always tired, always complaining of aches and pains that his team of expensive doctors couldn't seem to solve. If this water could give him even a fraction of the clarity and energy she felt in that one small sip, it would be worth any price.
"He can't produce more?" she pressed. "Even for a guaranteed buyer?"
"He's a very... principled young man," Mr. Kim said carefully. "He will not compromise his source."
Evelyn recognized an impasse. She paid the six hundred dollars for the case, a transaction Mr. Kim processed with a stunned, stoic calm. As he packed the bottles into a sturdy box for her, she opened her wallet again.
She took out a heavy, cream-colored business card, embossed with a simple name and phone number. "Please," she said, sliding the card across the counter. "Give this to your distributor. Tell him I am prepared to purchase his entire production run, every day, for the foreseeable future. I'd very much like to speak with him."
After carefully placing the box of Clarity in the trunk of her Bentley, she got into the driver's seat. But she didn't start the car. Instead, she picked up her phone and dialed a familiar number.
"Hi, Grandpa," she said, her voice warm. "How are you feeling today?... Yes, I know. Well, listen, I've found something. It's a bit strange, but I have a good feeling about it. I'm bringing you something to try. It might help."