CHAPTER 179: ENJOYING WEALTH PART 1

August 25th, 2029

Bonifacio Global City, Taguig

11:05 AM

Timothy stepped out of the TG Atlas and closed the door with a soft, familiar thud. No driver today. He had told his staff he’d take this one himself. Saturday, no hearings, no site inspection, no DOE calls. He had the entire day blocked off in his calendar with a single word: "Personal."

BGC was busy but not chaotic. Office towers, glass façades, people in sneakers and casual clothes instead of suits. Families pushing strollers, teenagers taking photos, joggers with wireless earbuds. It felt younger than Makati, less formal, more restless.

He checked his phone out of habit.

Hairline crack on the corner of the screen. Battery at 39%, even though he had charged it before leaving the condo. Storage warnings popping up every other day. This phone had survived late-night calls, emergency Zoom meetings, site video inspections from Bataan to General Santos.

It was time.

He slipped it back into his pocket and walked toward the large tech store at the corner of High Street. The glass façade reflected the sky and the neighboring buildings. Inside, people were gathered around tables, testing devices, listening to staff explain features.

The new banner was simple:

iPhone 21 – Power for Everything.

Inside, the noise level was controlled. Not quiet, but not like a gadget sale crowd either. Background music, low voices, the occasional laugh when someone overtested the camera zoom.

A staff member in a black polo approached him.

"Good morning, sir. Looking for anything specific today?"

"New phone," Timothy said. "Flagship model. My current one’s dying."

The staff smiled. "iPhone 21, sir? We have stocks for all variants. If you like, you can try the demo unit first."

He led Timothy to one of the display tables. The phone looked familiar but sharper. Slim bezels, matte back, polished camera module. The demo unit was already unlocked, home screen empty except for the default apps.

Timothy picked it up. It was lighter than he expected. He opened the camera, pointed it idly at the far wall. The sensor adjusted instantly, sharpening the image, evening out exposure.

"Better low-light performance, sir," the staff explained. "Improved battery efficiency, faster neural engine for AI processing, and satellite backup connectivity if the network fails."

Timothy nodded. He didn’t care about the marketing terms, but he understood reliability. Less lag meant fewer problems during remote inspections, live calls, emergency briefings.

"Maximum storage," he said. "Top model. Midnight color."

"Yes, sir. iPhone 21 Pro Max, 2TB, Midnight." The staff tapped on his tablet. "We have three units left in that configuration."

"That includes fast charger?"

"Charger is separate now, sir. But we recommend the 65W brick and the braided cable if you do long calls and tethering."

"Fine. Add those."

"Under what name should we issue the receipt, sir? Personal or corporate?"

"Personal," Timothy said. "This one isn’t for the company."

The staff finally looked at him a bit more closely. A brief flicker of recognition crossed his face, but he kept his tone even.

"Understood, sir. I’ll prepare the unit now. May I see any ID for the warranty registration?"

Timothy handed over his license. The staff glanced at the name, and that confirmed it. He didn’t comment on it. He just became more careful, more professional.

While the receipt was being processed, Timothy stood near the accessories rack and checked out cases. Most were loud, full of patterns and bright colors. He ignored those and picked a plain dark gray protective case with a thin profile.

The staff returned with the sealed box, a small bag for the charger, and the printed receipt.

"If you’d like, sir, we can also help with data transfer from your old phone," he offered.

Timothy shook his head. "I’ll handle it later."

He paid in full, no installment, no financing. The terminal beeped, and the staff bagged his purchase in a simple paper bag with the store logo.

"Thank you for choosing us, sir. If you need any help with setup, you can drop by again anytime," the staff said.

Timothy nodded and left the store.

Outside, the sun was high but the heat wasn’t unbearable. Trees along High Street gave shade. Kids played near the shallow fountain, parents watching them from nearby benches.

He didn’t open the box yet. He liked the weight of it in his hand. New device, clean slate, no scratches, no data, no notifications. For now, it was just potential.

His stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten anything heavy since breakfast.

He crossed the street and headed toward a nearby mall entrance. Inside, cool air, marble tiles, and the familiar smell of mixed food stalls: ramen, burgers, coffee, baked bread. His eyes landed on a small Japanese place with a short line and efficient staff.

He ordered tonkatsu, rice, miso soup, and iced tea. Nothing fancy. He sat at a corner table, placed the paper bag with the phone next to him, and ate without rushing. No one approached him in the restaurant. People recognized him sometimes, but in places like this, everyone was focused on their own weekend.

After lunch, he threw away his trash, wiped his hands with a tissue, and headed for the escalator.

Clothes next.

His wardrobe had always been functional: plain shirts, dark jeans, some good suits for meetings. Lately, though, invitations abroad were piling up—forums, conferences, private roundtables. Cameras would be there whether he wanted them or not. He needed clothes that didn’t look like he had just grabbed the first thing from his closet.

He stepped into a high-end boutique. The kind with space between racks, not crammed hangers. Neutral lighting, wood and metal fixtures, light instrumental music. Most of the customers were older men, trying on suits with the help of assistants.

A sales associate approached, a man in his late twenties with a tape measure around his neck.

"Good morning, sir. What are you looking for today?"

"Casual and semi-formal," Timothy said. "Something I can wear to meetings without feeling overdressed."

The associate nodded. "Understood, sir. We can start with shirts and jackets. May I ask your usual size?"

"Medium, I think. Depends on the brand."

"We’ll measure to be sure," the associate said. "If it’s alright with you."

They stepped to a discreet corner. Quick tape measure across shoulders, chest, arms, waist.

"You’re between sizes," the associate said. "We’ll pull a couple of fits so you can see what feels better."

He moved efficiently, pulling a few pieces: a navy blazer with a clean line, two white shirts, a light blue one, a charcoal grey pair of trousers, and two pairs of jeans that didn’t look cheap or overly distressed.

Timothy tried them on in the fitting room, one by one.

The navy blazer fit well over a simple shirt. He looked at himself in the mirror. Not like a politician, not like a fashion ad, just... sharper. Presentable. Someone people would expect to see sitting at a panel or stepping out of a meeting.

"How does it feel, sir?" the associate asked from outside the curtain.

"Comfortable," Timothy said. "Not tight. Can move in it."

"That’s good. The fabric has some stretch, so it’ll move with you. Useful if you travel a lot," the associate replied.

He kept the blazer, three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and the charcoal trousers. The associate suggested minor adjustments on the trouser length, and Timothy agreed. Tailoring would be ready in a week; the rest he could take home today.

At the counter, the total flashed on the screen. It wasn’t a small amount. He paid without flinching.

There was a time when every peso spent on clothes was a big decision. Now, this was nothing compared to a day’s shift in stock price or project expenditure. Still, he didn’t feel like he was buying for show. These were tools. Just like his drone fleets, his servers, his reactors. Only this time, the tool was what he wore.

He left the store with two neat bags. The paper bag with the phone shifted in his other hand.