Leo's life was now a blur of fulfilling orders and managing his surprisingly complex logistics. His small apartment was a finely-tuned machine. Crates of empty bottles came in, cases of packaged Clarity went out. The floor space was a mosaic of shipping labels, packing tape, and boxes ready for courier pickup. It was relentless, demanding work, but every box he sealed was another victory.
Despite the boom, he never neglected his true source. His daily trips to the Sanctum were now the most peaceful, centering part of his day. They were no longer just about bottling water; they were about stewardship.
Project Eden was an overwhelming success. The combination of magical soil, otherworldly sunlight, and Clarity water had produced results that defied belief. His small patch of earth was now a riot of lush, vibrant life. The lettuce heads were plump and a deep, glossy green. The tomato vines were heavy with perfectly round, crimson fruit that seemed to glow from within. And the carrot tops were a veritable jungle of feathery leaves.
He noticed that small portions of his harvest had been... sampled. A few strawberries were missing, a single lettuce head had neat, semicircular bites taken out of it. He saw the tracks of small, unidentifiable creatures near the patch. Far from being angry, Leo felt a sense of satisfaction. If the native fauna deemed his garden worthy of a meal, he must be doing something right. He considered them his first, non-paying customers. He'd even be fine if the elves took some; the garden was for the good of the Sanctum, after all.
The day came when he knew he could wait no longer. He knelt by the carrot row, gripped the base of a particularly robust-looking tuft of leaves, and pulled.
The carrot that slid from the dark, loamy earth was a work of art. It was perfectly formed, a vibrant, deep orange that seemed to hold the light. There was no need to wash it; the soil it grew in was so clean and pure that it simply fell away, leaving the root vegetable looking polished and smooth.
Holding the carrot in his hand, he felt a faint, thrumming energy emanating from it, much like the water, but more… solid. More grounded.
He didn't hesitate. He brought it to his mouth and took a large, crunchy bite.
The explosion of flavor was instantaneous and overwhelming. It wasn't just the taste of carrot; it was the distilled essence of carrotness. It was sweet, earthy, and unbelievably crisp, with a complexity that made every supermarket carrot he'd ever eaten seem like a sad, watery imitation.
But the flavor was just the beginning. As he chewed, he felt that familiar, life-affirming energy spread through him, but with a different focus. It wasn't just a general sense of wellness; it was targeted. A warm, soothing sensation washed over his eyes. He had spent his entire life staring at screens—cracked phone screens, old computer monitors, warehouse scanners—and his eyes always carried a low-grade strain. As he swallowed that first bite of magical carrot, that strain simply… dissolved. The colors of the Sanctum around him seemed to pop, becoming sharper and more vibrant. The old adage "carrots are good for your eyesight" felt like a colossal understatement. This wasn't a mild improvement; it was a high-definition upgrade.
"Oh my god," he whispered, his eyes wide. He devoured the rest of the carrot in three more bites, each one amplifying the effect.
His business brain, never truly dormant, kicked into high gear, the gears spinning at a thousand RPM.
The water was amazing, but it was subtle. The effects were about overall wellness. This… this was specific. Verifiable. A carrot that genuinely, noticeably improves your eyesight. What else? Did the tomatoes strengthen your heart? Did the lettuce clear your mind?
He had to test it.
A new business plan started forming in his head, bigger and more audacious than anything he'd conceived before. A restaurant? A food delivery service? The name "Clarity Cuisine" flashed in his mind. No, no, relax, he told himself, trying to temper his manic energy. One step at a time. Crawl, walk, run.
First, he needed more data. The carrot was amazing raw, but what happened when it was cooked? Did heat diminish the effects, or… enhance them? A thrilling thought struck him with the force of a thunderbolt.
What if he used Clarity water to cook the Clarity vegetables?
What would happen when you combined two sources of this incredible magic? Would they multiply their effects? Would the resulting creation be exponentially more powerful? He imagined a soup, a simple carrot soup made with these ingredients. It wouldn't just be food. It would be a potion.
Before he could sell so much as a single carrot, he had to become a chef. A research chef. An alchemist.
He carefully harvested a few more carrots, a handful of cherry tomatoes, and a head of lettuce, placing them in a canvas bag. He had to go back to his apartment, to his kitchen. Project Eden was entering Phase Two. It was no longer just about agriculture. It was about to become culinary science.