I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 181: Steel and Saltwater

Astra Forward Base, Iloilo City — January 24, 2024 | 6:45 AM

The sun broke over the Panay Gulf like a slow-burning torch, casting a golden sheen over the sprawling construction base set up along the coastal edge of Iloilo. Massive cranes stood at rest, their silhouettes stark against the morning sky. Containers full of prefabricated highway segments, imported rebar, and bridge-launching gantries dotted the site like quiet sentinels.

Matthew Borja stepped out of the makeshift command tent with Angel beside him, both in full field attire. His boots crunched lightly over gravel as they made their way toward a line of field engineers assembling for morning brief.

"Is this where we'll push the VisMin junction?" he asked, squinting into the sunrise.

Angel nodded, flipping her tablet around to show a 3D terrain render. "Right here. The Iloilo-Guimaras bridge will start just east of this spot. From there, we span across to Guimaras Island, then onward to Negros Occidental through the Binalbagan coast."

"Three islands. Two major spans. And enough bureaucratic landmines to fill a trench," Matthew said, though his tone was calm.

Angel smiled faintly. "Which is why we start here. Ground that still listens."

The local Astra hires—most of them Ilonggos—lined up with quiet respect. They weren't used to executives showing up at this hour, let alone their CEO standing shoulder to shoulder with them.

Matthew raised his voice just slightly. "Good morning. I won't keep you long. Today we begin soil stabilization work for the first pylons. You've got the equipment. You've got the backing. You've got the trust. The only thing left is to show the rest of the country how it's done."

Someone clapped. Then another. And soon the site echoed with hands striking gloves, steel tapping helmets in solidarity. The rhythm of beginnings.

—

Guimaras Strait – January 26, 2024 | 10:20 AM

From the deck of the Astra Marine Barge-01, Matthew and Angel surveyed the waters between Iloilo and Guimaras. A team of engineers and oceanographers stood nearby, pointing at the drop sensors being deployed into the channel.

"We've got a thirty-meter drop-off at the midpoint," one of the marine engineers reported. "But the seabed's relatively stable. No major fault lines. We can begin pile driving with JR East's modular support columns."

Angel adjusted her headset as a second engineer relayed drone footage from the sky. "Current speeds within tolerance. Tidal cycles aren't erratic."

Matthew leaned over the railing. "Good. This is the spine. If this holds, the rest of the inter-island corridor can stretch all the way to Zamboanga without pause."

He pulled his phone from his jacket and snapped a photo of the empty horizon between islands. Soon, that blank stretch of sea would carry movement—people, cargo, opportunity.

"What should we name this span?" Angel asked.

Matthew thought for a moment, then said quietly, "The Bridge of Promise."

Angel nodded, almost to herself. "I'll let the cartographers know."

—

Department of Transportation, Manila — January 29, 2024 | 2:00 PM

In a sleek, renovated conference room, members of the DOTr listened as Angel presented the full inter-island masterplan. The walls were lined with renderings—bridge cross-sections, exit designs, freight zones, and ferry bypass docks. At the head of the table sat Secretary Baluyot, who represented the technocrat faction still holding institutional sway over long-term transport policy.

"We've never approved a multi-island, privately built corridor before," Baluyot said carefully. "You're asking to rewrite standard protocols."

Angel replied calmly, "We're asking to replace outdated playbooks with working ones."

He tapped his pen thoughtfully. "And you're funding this entirely through Astra?"

Matthew, seated beside her, leaned forward. "With strategic foreign tech partnerships and local revenue-share agreements, yes. We keep the state involved where it matters—compliance, oversight, and long-term access affordability."

Baluyot studied them both, then said, "If you can deliver Guimaras Phase One by the end of Q2… I'll endorse it to the Palace."

Matthew nodded. "Then we'll see you in June."

—

Roxas City, Capiz — January 30, 2024 | 5:15 PM

A town hall unfolded inside a gymnasium packed to the rafters. Hundreds of residents—many of them rice farmers and fisherfolk—came to listen. Word had spread quickly: Astra was coming to build the bridge that would link their towns to the rest of the country.

Matthew stood again before the crowd. No stage, no suit. Just a polo shirt and dirt-streaked boots.

"This isn't just steel and asphalt," he told them. "This is the thread that stitches us together. Your kids won't have to leave for Manila to find work. They'll find it here."

A man raised his hand. "And what if the next government takes it away?"

Matthew looked the man straight in the eye. "Then we'll remind them who built it. And why it's not theirs to take."

The crowd erupted into applause.

—

Astra HQ, Subic — February 1, 2024 | 8:30 AM

Back in Subic, Matthew walked into a quiet office with Angel already inside, reviewing security footage of barges moving pre-fab sections across Guimaras.

"Tacloban's docks just confirmed clearance," she said. "And Cebu's maritime office approved the Binalbagan connector route. The corridor is officially green from Leyte to Negros."

Matthew exhaled and smiled.

"Then we begin."

Angel looked up. "You know what this is, right?"

Matthew raised a brow. "A country being redrawn?"

She smiled. "That. And history being built in advance."

—

Evening Rooftop — February 2, 2024 | 9:00 PM

The lights of Subic sparkled beneath them as Matthew stood with Angel once more, both nursing hot drinks under the wide Pacific stars.

"Guimaras will be the heart of it all," she said softly. "Not just a bridge point. A symbol."

Matthew nodded. "Because it used to be a stopover. A place you passed through."

"And now?"

"Now, it's where the country connects."

He looked out to sea, the dark waters waiting to be crossed.

"Tomorrow," he said.

Angel looked over. "We build."

Matthew turned to her, voice steady.

"And this time… we build without borders."

Guimaras Island — February 3, 2024 | 10:00 AM

The island buzzed with life.

For decades, Guimaras had been known mostly for its sweet mangoes and quiet beaches. But today, its southern edge had transformed into a work zone—a pulse point in the heart of a national artery. Modular platforms floated just off the coast, where engineers from JR East worked shoulder to shoulder with Filipino builders. Anchors were being driven deep into the seabed, forming the roots of the first segment of the Bridge of Promise.

Matthew stood beneath a temporary canopy watching the process. Behind him, a group of Guimaras State University students observed the site tour alongside their professors.

"This isn't just for engineers," he told them. "We'll need architects, urban planners, geologists, community organizers. Whatever you study, there's a role to play."

One of the students, a girl in her fourth year, raised her hand. "Will there be internships under Astra, sir?"

Angel stepped forward. "Starting next month. Twenty slots in this region alone. You'll be in the field—not just stuck in a corner with spreadsheets."

The girl smiled widely. So did a few others. And just like that, another brick was laid in the foundation of local ownership.

—

Negros Occidental — February 4, 2024 | 2:30 PM

Across the sea, in Binalbagan, backhoes moved through the sugarcane fields where the next segment of the corridor would land. It was here, surrounded by rich farmland and coastal villages, that the western bridgehead would rise.

A local leader, Mayor Salcedo, toured the site with Matthew and Angel.

"We've had many projects proposed here before," he said warily, "but they all disappeared by the time the rain came."

Matthew turned to him. "This one's being built before the rain. And after it, too."

Angel added, "We're working with co-ops to compensate for land loss and expand irrigation lines using our corridor path. You'll get better roads—and better water, too."

Salcedo paused, then nodded. "If you keep your word, I'll bring every mayor from Bacolod to Dumaguete behind you."

Matthew extended a hand. "Then we'll keep it."

—

Tacloban City — February 6, 2024 | 11:00 AM

In the historic city still bearing scars from Yolanda, the Astra VisMin Summit was in full swing. Dozens of provincial governors, mayors, and industry leaders gathered in an old colonial hall now fitted with LED displays and networked dashboards. On screen, the full inter-island expressway plan shimmered in sleek, glowing arcs—from Iloilo to Negros, Cebu to Leyte, and onward toward the Mindanao frontier.

Matthew addressed them like he always did—plain, direct, human.

"You've waited long enough for roads that don't just end at the waterline. Now we build past it. But we can't do this alone."

He looked at each region's representatives.

"Give us your cooperation. Your people. Your belief. And we'll return it with steel, wages, trade, and permanence."

The hall was quiet for a moment. Then, one by one, governors began to nod. Not because of fanfare or promises—but because the work had already begun.

—

Astra Command Center, Subic — February 7, 2024 | 8:00 PM

Back at home base, a massive digital dashboard filled the main wall of Astra's central operations room. Red and blue segments denoted progress bars across the corridor zones. A green stripe now extended from Southern Luzon to the Guimaras Strait. Another from Binalbagan to Northern Mindanao was labeled "pending launch."

Matthew watched the data scroll beside Angel.

"We're on schedule for Q3 test segments," she said. "But material ferrying will bottleneck by April unless Cebu expands port handling."

"Can we offload to Ormoc or Leyte?" Matthew asked.

"Already negotiating with Ormoc port authority. They're eager. We might even base a floating dock there."

Matthew grinned. "A floating dock for a floating dream."

Angel nodded. "With anchors made of purpose."

He looked at her. "Remind me again why we're doing this."

She didn't hesitate. "Because someone had to. And you didn't wait for permission."

—

Guimaras Bridge Site — February 8, 2024 | 6:00 AM

The first segment of the Bridge of Promise was finally lifted into place.

As floodlights faded into the dawn, workers stood along the barge's edge, watching the steel beam lock into position. It was only one section. Maybe twenty meters. But it was the beginning of something immense.

From the shores of Iloilo, children watched it happen.

From a boat near the strait, a farmer livestreamed the moment to his relatives abroad.

And from a hilltop in Guimaras, an old couple held hands and whispered prayers—not because they feared, but because they hoped.

For the first time, they believed that their island would no longer be passed by.

It would be part of the journey now.

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