NOVEL NEXT Chapter 164: Realization
Sentinel BioTech HQ, Manila — Thursday, 4:00 PM
The corridors outside Matthew Borja's office were buzzing with quiet activity. Engineers moved between floors with blueprints and tablets, analysts huddled over conference tables, and legal staff were cross-referencing land titles and right-of-way documents.
Inside his office, however, it was silent.
Matthew stood alone at the edge of his desk, a tablet in one hand and a thin folder in the other. The view outside was typical—hazy skyline, streaks of late-afternoon sunlight breaking through glass towers. But what sat on his screen was anything but routine.
It was an internal report from Angel—compiled notes from meetings she'd initiated with DPWH, NEDA, and the Department of Transportation. Their responses, while officially cordial, were riddled with subtle red flags. "Pending further review." "Subject to inter-agency alignment." "Awaiting clarification on jurisdiction." One department even requested a twenty-seven-step approval process—each step led by a different official.
A footnote, highlighted in yellow, stood out more than anything else:
"Source (off the record): 'They're stalling because they don't want a private entity to take credit for something this big. There's talk of getting a senator to sponsor a counter-bill to block the project.'"
Matthew placed the tablet down slowly.
He stared at the window, his expression hardening. That familiar feeling crept into his chest—the mixture of frustration, certainty, and that sharp tinge of disappointment he always felt when confronting the rot that festered behind bureaucratic curtains.
"Of course," he murmured. "Of course they would."
The intercom buzzed.
"Sir?" Angel's voice came through. "The draft proposal for DPWH is ready for your review."
"Don't send it," Matthew said, calmly but firmly.
A pause. "Sir?"
"I don't need them."
Another pause. "Copy that. Should I come in?"
"Yes."
A few seconds later, the door opened, and Angel stepped in, holding her tablet, her eyes searching his face. "Something happened?"
Matthew gestured to the screen. "They're stalling us, Angel. Deliberately. There are whispers about blocking the project politically. They don't want it to succeed unless they can put their names on it."
Angel sighed, clearly not surprised. "We expected resistance."
"We expected resistance," Matthew echoed. "But not sabotage."
He moved around his desk, grabbing a marker and walking up to the glass wall he often used as a board. With smooth, practiced strokes, he drew a wide box and labeled it:
"AURORA LINE — INDEPENDENT MODEL"
Angel tilted her head. "You're scrapping the joint venture plan?"
"I'm not scrapping the vision," he replied. "Just the fantasy that I can do this with them. They'll take the credit, siphon the funding, delay the timeline, and worst of all—lower the standard. I'm not building something that gets compromised in subcommittees or congressional hearings."
He drew a second box underneath:
"PRIVATE HOLDING — FULL OWNERSHIP"
Angel sat quietly, processing. "If we go fully private, we lose land access, legislative protection, and right-of-way enforcement. The government holds the tools."
"Then we'll build our own toolkit," Matthew said, underlining his new heading twice. "We acquire land directly from landowners. No middlemen, no agency gatekeepers. We build legal corridors, relocate responsibly, and offer above-market buyouts. The people will work with us—especially if we do right by them."
Angel's eyes sharpened. "That's expensive."
"That's cleaner," he corrected.
He turned back to her, arms crossed. "This isn't about ROI anymore. It's legacy. I'll invest ten billion if I have to. Twenty. I want to build something that no corrupt official can lay a finger on."
Angel slowly nodded, visibly impressed. "That's going to require major foreign partnerships."
"Already thinking it," Matthew replied. "Start scheduling preliminary meetings with Alstom, Siemens Mobility, Hyundai Rotem, and JR East. I want three competing bids for each major rail segment."
Angel raised her brow. "What about local firms?"
"We'll contract them for civil work—tunnels, foundations, structural engineering. Let's give jobs to our own. But core tech, rail operations, and AI control systems? All foreign. I want battle-tested vendors, no shortcuts."
She scribbled notes, glancing up between each line. "Are we announcing this shift publicly?"
"Eventually," he said. "But not yet. Let the politicians believe they still have a seat at the table. We'll play nice for now. Behind the scenes, we move quietly. Acquire, survey, plan."
He turned and stared at the map of the Philippines still glowing faintly on his secondary screen.
"There's a reason they never built this," he said quietly. "Because it doesn't benefit them directly. Roads give kickbacks. Ports control trade. But rail?" He glanced at her. "Rail is for the people. That's why it never happened."
Angel looked at the screen, too. "So we build it."
"We build it," Matthew said. "And we don't stop until a father in Ilocos can take a morning train to Manila to work and be back home in time for his daughter's recital. Until a fisherwoman in Leyte can sell her catch in Cebu without needing three days and two ferries. Until we stitch this country together like never before."
Angel's gaze softened slightly. "You're serious about this."
"I'm always serious," he said. "But this—this is different. I've built armor, weapons, satellites. But this... This will be the veins of a nation. And I'll make sure it flows clean."
She nodded, quiet for a beat. "Then I'll schedule the meetings. And I'll start identifying the best land corridors we can purchase quietly."
Matthew looked at her and smiled. "Thank you, Angel."
She smiled back. "We've got a lot of tracks to lay."
As she stepped out of the office, Matthew stood alone once more. The map on the screen pulsed gently—an image of possibility, of what could be.
He picked up his phone, dialing a private line.
"Mr. Yamamoto," he said when the line connected. "It's Matthew Borja. I'm sending you preliminary specs for a railway system I want your team to review. Top priority."
A pause.
"Yes," he said, smiling faintly. "We're going to build a bullet train. But this time, it won't be in Japan."
He ended the call and looked out the window again. The city below buzzed with its usual chaos—jeepneys weaving through traffic, people rushing down sidewalks, motorcycles squeezing through impossible gaps.
Soon, that chaos would change.
Not with slogans. Not with handshakes.
But with steel, precision, and quiet determination.
And he would fund every kilometer of it.