I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World

Sentinel BioTech HQ, Friday – 7:45 AM

The first meeting of the day wasn't with investors, engineers, or military brass. It was with a group of men and women who wore muddy boots, sunhats, and carried laser range finders instead of briefcases.

The land surveyors had arrived.

Angel had already escorted them to the Situation Room—what the team had started calling the west wing conference hall ever since it began hosting daily strategy briefings for the Aurora Line Initiative. There was no pretense anymore. The side project had grown teeth.

Matthew entered wearing an untucked collared shirt and rolled sleeves. No jacket. No tie. Just the right blend of authority and field-readiness. The surveyors rose briefly, clearly aware of who he was, though he waved them back into their seats.

"Good morning," he said, nodding toward Angel, who handed him a tablet. "I know you've already been briefed by our logistics team, but I wanted to be here myself today. What we're doing… it's not just a technical effort. It's national stitching. Every coordinate, every valley we measure—it matters."

Engineer Gabriel Quinto, the senior surveyor, cleared his throat respectfully. "Sir, we've completed satellite overlays for the Luzon segment. From Caloocan to Batangas City. The challenges are mostly urban density, informal settlements, and layered terrain near Tagaytay."

He tapped on his own tablet and a LiDAR-based 3D map sprang to life on the big screen. The route was marked in luminous green, with trouble zones flashing orange and red.

Matthew studied the data. "Informal settlers?"

"Some. But not impossible to relocate. The key will be offering alternative housing first—generous ones," Quinto said.

Angel chimed in, flipping open her notes. "We're coordinating with five housing NGOs and two private developers. If we build entire communities—complete with schools, clinics, and job access—we'll get public support."

Matthew nodded slowly. "Make sure it's done with dignity. I don't want headlines. I want quiet gratitude."

The surveyor smiled faintly. "You're different, sir. Most developers start with 'How do we clear them?' You're asking how to take care of them."

Matthew looked at him seriously. "Because I'm not building a train line. I'm building trust."

Subic Bay – Aurora Central, 2:00 PM

The core engineering teams had relocated to Subic for the week, converting Hangar B into a war room of whiteboards, server racks, architectural drafts, and coffee-fueled chaos. A large digital map stretched along one wall—each station point marked with a pulse. Northern Luzon glowed red as field teams mapped terrain.

Angel moved through the room with a commanding grace, nodding to project leads, checking schedules, scanning through blueprints.

When Matthew arrived, she handed him a folder labeled: "Landowner Relations – Priority Regions."

"Bulacan, Pampanga, Quezon. These are the ones we're targeting for early purchase agreements," she said. "I've already arranged meetings with six major landholding families. Some are suspicious. Some are excited. All are… cautious."

Matthew opened the folder, flipping through pages of profiles.

He paused on one name. "Vicente R. Laureta. I know him."

Angel nodded. "Old family. Owned sugarcane plantations for generations. His estate sits right where we want the Bicol-Quezon interchange. If he agrees to sell or lease, it accelerates the southern phase by months."

"I'll call him personally," Matthew said. "He won't say no if he hears my voice."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "And if he does?"

Matthew gave a half-smile. "Then I'll offer to buy the entire plantation and lease it back to him for free. Pride's a currency too."

That evening — Matthew's Private Office, Sentinel Tower

The city was quiet again. Manila lights sparkled in the distance, unaware that beneath the surface, seismic shifts were being plotted by a man they still thought of as just a tech billionaire.

Matthew sat with a notepad, scribbling something by hand. He rarely did that. But some ideas needed the friction of pen on paper.

Angel knocked gently and stepped inside, carrying two mugs of chamomile tea.

"Not coffee?" he asked.

"You've had three today already," she replied. "Your heart deserves mercy."

He chuckled and accepted the mug. "Any updates from JR East?"

"They're reviewing the specs. Preliminary feedback is enthusiastic. They called the Aurora Line 'a modern marvel in ambition.'"

Matthew took a sip, then leaned back, eyes wandering toward the city below.

"You ever think how this would've gone if I'd worked with the government?" he asked quietly.

Angel tilted her head. "Yes. I think you'd be six months behind, fighting in a Senate committee hearing over which cronies get subcontracts."

He nodded. "It's exhausting. How normal it's become to expect dysfunction."

Angel looked at him carefully. "You've changed."

He turned to her, curious. "How so?"

"You've always been intense, driven, brilliant. But this is different. You're not building to prove anything anymore. You're building because you believe it has to exist."

Matthew was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe I finally grew up."

Angel smiled softly. "Or maybe you just got tired of waiting for someone else to care."

Meanwhile, in a Government Office – Somewhere in Quezon City

An undersecretary from the Department of Transportation slammed a folder on the table.

"He's bypassing us entirely. He's offering landowners twice the going rate. He's bringing in the Japanese, the Koreans, the Germans—he's building it without a single appropriation from Congress."

Another man, a senator's chief of staff, gritted his teeth. "If he succeeds, it sets a precedent. No need for national infrastructure budgets. No ribbon-cuttings. No media coverage."

"We can't let that happen," the undersecretary said. "Draft the bill. Limit private infrastructure scale. Require 'national oversight' for any multi-provincial project."

"Even if it doesn't pass," the aide replied, "it'll slow him down. That's all we need."

They exchanged a look. Quiet envy. Silent fear.

They weren't just losing relevance.

They were becoming obsolete.

Back in Subic – Midnight

Matthew stood outside the hangar, the salty air brushing past him. The sounds of machines hummed from inside, but out here, it was peaceful.

Angel joined him, her tablet under one arm.

"You should sleep," she said gently.

"I will," he replied. "Just needed to see it."

She looked out too. "They'll fight you harder now. Quietly, publicly—doesn't matter. You're threatening their order."

"I'm not threatening," Matthew said softly. "I'm revealing. What we could've had this whole time."

Angel didn't say anything for a while.

Then, she glanced at him. "And what if it gets dangerous?"

Matthew turned to her, eyes steady. "Then we stay dangerous in return. Not with weapons. With purpose."

She nodded. "I'll make sure security protocols are updated. We'll screen land agents and contractors more carefully from here on."

"Good," he said. "Because this isn't just concrete and steel anymore. It's a statement."

Angel nodded slowly, understanding completely.

The Aurora Line wasn't just a railway anymore.

It was rebellion in blueprint form.

And they were just getting started.