I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 169: Breaking Ground

Tarlac City, Central Luzon

Tuesday — 9:00 AM

The morning sun had barely risen when convoys of black SUVs and service vehicles began arriving at a cleared, leveled field just outside Tarlac City. Rows of white tents had been set up overnight, flanked by security personnel and camera crews from every major news outlet in the country. Banners bearing the emblem of the Aurora Line fluttered in the breeze, their simple, elegant design—a rising sun over a track—already becoming a symbol of hope.

Matthew Borja stepped out of the lead SUV dressed in a sharp, tailored charcoal suit, his coat left unbuttoned in deference to the sweltering heat. As he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves, Angel approached from the tent's interior, tablet in hand and sunglasses shielding her eyes.

"They're ready for you," she said with a small, approving nod. "Media's in position. JR East's delegation just arrived. And yes—your shovel is polished and waiting."

Matthew chuckled under his breath. "Wouldn't want the ceremonial dirt to stick."

Angel smirked. "I warned them."

Behind her, a modest stage had been set up. Atop it stood a podium, flanked by seated guests—local mayors, engineers, landowners, and members of the JR East delegation, all invited as witnesses to the symbolic start of something unprecedented. A single backhoe was parked nearby, idle for now, beside a large metal sign covered with a black velvet cloth.

As the emcee stepped up to introduce the event, Matthew took his place in the front row.

The speech was short—by design. The moment wasn't about grandeur. It was about commitment.

Then, with the sound of camera shutters already clicking, the emcee called his name.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Matthew Borja, Founder of the Aurora Line Initiative and CEO of Sentinel BioTech."

Polite applause followed. Matthew walked up to the podium, took a brief moment to adjust the microphone, and looked out over the small crowd and the sea of cameras behind them.

"Thank you," he began. "I'll keep this short."

He paused, letting the weight of the moment breathe.

"Today is not a celebration of me. Or Sentinel. Or any one company. This is a celebration of belief—belief that our nation deserves better. That our people deserve to move freely, quickly, safely. That distance should no longer be a barrier to opportunity."

He glanced briefly toward the cleared field behind him.

"What you see here today is just dirt. But in a few years, this will be a lifeline—connecting cities, families, and futures. A railway system built not for profit, but for progress."

He looked back toward the crowd. "We're not waiting anymore. We're building."

And with that, he stepped away.

Applause erupted—genuine, not rehearsed.

Moments later, Angel joined him as a ceremonial shovel—silver, engraved—was handed to him. JR East's representative, Mr. Yamamoto, stood on his left. Engineer Robles, wearing a hard hat and beaming with pride, stood on his right. The three men each took a shovel.

Cameras zoomed in. Drones hovered.

With a synchronized motion, they dug into the soil and lifted the first symbolic clumps of earth.

The Aurora Line had officially broken ground.

Behind the Tent — 10:15 AM

Media obligations complete, Matthew slipped into the shade where Angel waited beside a table of refreshments. JR East's engineers mingled with their Filipino counterparts, inspecting blueprints and sharing laughs through translators. Local mayors took selfies in front of the Aurora signage.

"You did well," Angel said, handing him a chilled glass of water.

"Better than expected," he admitted, sipping gratefully.

"The speech was just the right tone. Even the journalists seemed caught off guard. No politicking. No big sponsors. Just commitment."

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Matthew smiled. "Because that's all it should be."

Angel flipped open her tablet. "Construction officially begins tomorrow. Initial track preparation from Tarlac to Angeles. We'll have 500 local workers on-site by the end of the week."

"Good," Matthew said, watching as a line of cranes and equipment was guided onto the field in the distance.

"Also," she added, "we've secured preliminary acquisition talks in Laguna and Batangas. Landowners are responding better now that they've seen the media coverage. They believe it's real."

"It is real," Matthew said firmly.

Angel studied him for a second. "You okay? You've been… quieter than usual."

He gave her a thoughtful glance. "I was just thinking. A year ago, I was in a Pentagon meeting about exosuits. Now I'm here, breaking ground for a bullet train."

Angel laughed softly. "Life comes at you fast. Literally, in this case."

Matthew smiled, the weight behind his eyes lightening just a little. "I'm glad we're doing this. No shortcuts. No favors. Just building something clean."

"You're setting a precedent," Angel said. "And it's scaring the hell out of the old guard."

"They should be scared," Matthew replied. "Not because I'm trying to take something from them. But because I'm proving that it never had to be this broken in the first place."

Clark Satellite Office — 2:30 PM

Later that day, Matthew and Angel arrived at the newly established regional office in Clark Freeport. Still sparsely furnished, the office was already functional, with engineers setting up drafting tables and surveyors uploading drone footage of the terrain.

A digital wall displayed a live feed of the construction site in Tarlac, where the first markers were already being placed by ground crews.

A team leader from logistics approached. "Sir, we've begun laying out the utility corridors. Water lines, fiber optics, maintenance access. We're following the JR East model."

Matthew nodded. "Keep redundancies in place. We're not just building for now. We're building for thirty years from now."

As the team dispersed, Angel opened a fresh document on her screen. "Should I start prepping the media strategy for Phase Two? Visayas segment?"

"Not yet," Matthew said. "Let this chapter settle first. Let the country see steel in the ground before we make more promises."

Angel nodded. "Understood."

He walked over to the window, looking out at the airstrip in the distance.

"The first train will ride this line," he said softly. "And it won't carry politicians. It'll carry workers, students, mothers going home."

Angel joined him at the window, standing beside him.

"You ever think about what it'll feel like?" she asked. "Sitting in that first car, looking out the window, knowing this all started with one idea?"

Matthew exhaled quietly. "I'll probably cry."

Angel chuckled. "I'll bring tissue."

Matthew laughed. "Deal."

And for a moment, they just stood there in comfortable silence—two people who had worked in the shadows, now watching the dawn of something truly public, truly lasting.

A project not driven by ego or votes.

But by belief.

By steel.

And by the simple idea that a nation could, finally, move forward.

Literally.