The rain had finally softened to a drizzle, but the streets of Makati still looked like a war zone. Cars were stranded in the middle of the flooded intersections, headlights dimmed, some abandoned altogether. Timothy and Hana had been stuck for two hours on a parking ramp leading up from the flooded avenue, the TG Horizon perched just high enough to avoid the worst of the rising water.

Timothy leaned against the seat, phone in hand, scrolling through the pictures he'd taken earlier, the brown floodwater, the cars half-submerged, the line of pedestrians wading knee-deep in the filthy current. One photo showed the reflection of Ayala Tower One almost disappearing under the flood, poetic, in a grim way.

He sighed, opened his verified X account, and typed.

"If only the money of the public were spent properly on flood control infrastructure, this wouldn't happen. But the politicians and their affiliates are just focused on filling up their coffers instead of actually solving the country's problems. Every rainy season, the same story repeats. Enough is enough."

He attached three images, the flooded streets, the submerged cars, and one shot of an ambulance struggling through traffic. Then he hit post.

Within minutes, notifications began to explode across his screen.

2 minutes later — 1.8K Retweets, 6.2K Likes

5 minutes later — 12K Retweets, 43K Likes

20 minutes later — #FloodOfCorruption trending #1 in the Philippines.

"Finally, someone said it!" one user wrote.

"Every rainy season it's the same story, flooded streets, empty promises."

"He's not just making cars, he's speaking truth to power."

Screenshots of Timothy's post began circulating across Facebook, TikTok, and Reddit. Netizens flooded the comments section, posting pictures of their own barangays under water, Marikina, Mandaluyong, Quezon City, all submerged.

"Sir Timothy is right. Billions gone, and yet look at this mess!"

"Government should be embarrassed that a private businessman is calling them out."

"This is why foreign investors hesitate, corruption drowns us, literally."

By the time the clock struck seven, news outlets had picked up the story.

GMA News Online: "TG Motors CEO calls out corruption amid Metro Manila flooding, post goes viral."

ABS-CBN News: "'Enough is enough,' says billionaire industrialist as Makati submerges."

Inquirer: "Timothy Guerrero slams government inefficiency: 'Money is stolen, not spent.'"

Inside the car, Hana looked up from her phone and gave a quiet smile. "See how powerful your words now Timothy?"

He exhaled through his nose, watching the rain bead across the window. "Good. Maybe it's time people stop pretending everything's fine."

"You know this will ruffle feathers," she warned gently. "Especially with elections coming next year. Some people up there won't like this."

Timothy smirked faintly. "I'm not running for office. I'm running a country's economy better than its own government. Let them be uncomfortable."

Hana chuckled. "You really don't hold back."

"Well, I have a vision for this country, Hana. And that vision includes the Philippines becoming top ten in terms of global economy. Now I can't do that if the government is full of corrupt politicians. The only way I can help this country is through my enterprise. I'll grow my company to a multi-trillion dollar business and use my influence to free the government of those officials. But before, there is another concern that we have to address."

"Concern?"

"Our electric bill," Timothy said. "I read in the mountains of reports that we are spending a lot on electricity bills in our 28 GWH gigafactory."

Hana blinked, a little caught off guard. "Ah, yes," she said, scrolling through her tablet. "I was actually going to bring that up next week. The Subic Gigafactory's monthly energy consumption has doubled since the battery assembly division went 24/7. It's normal, though—electricity prices here are just ridiculously high."

Timothy gave a slow nod, his eyes distant. "Normal, yes. But unsustainable."

He turned his gaze toward the rain-slick skyline of Makati, where the city lights shimmered faintly through the haze. "I did my research, Hana. The Philippines has one of the most expensive electricity rates in Asia—higher than Malaysia, higher than Vietnam, even higher than Japan in some months. And it's not because of scarcity. It's because the entire energy sector is controlled by a handful of conglomerates."

Hana frowned, listening closely.

"They buy generation from independent plants," Timothy continued, "then sell it to distributors who jack up the rates even more. The system's flawed from top to bottom. No transparency, no competition, and the government—of course—does nothing. Why would they? They're all tied to it."

He paused for a moment, scrolling through a document on his own phone. It was a study he'd bookmarked days ago: 'Energy Market Monopolization in Southeast Asia.'

"The power grid isn't just inefficient," he said quietly. "It's owned. That's the real problem."

Hana set her tablet down. "I see your point. But this is the Philippines. The energy sector's been like that for decades. Everyone just accepts it."

Timothy smirked faintly. "Not me. I don't accept paying triple what a South Korean plant pays per kilowatt-hour. We're burning money for nothing. The gigafactory alone—just Subic—is consuming nearly 520 gigawatt-hours a month. That's about ₱4.6 billion in electric bills monthly. And that's not counting the Lithium refinery, the cathode and anode plant…"

Hana's brows lifted. "That much?"

Timothy nodded slowly. "And that's before the semiconductor foundry in Batangas even goes online next year. Once that starts drawing power…" He paused, rubbing his temple. "It's going to be catastrophic. Semiconductor fabs are power-hungry monsters. A single 3-nanometer production line can consume 1 terawatt-hour per year. Multiply that by four lines running 24/7, and we're talking billions of pesos a month—again, all going to the same handful of companies."

The rain outside began to ease, replaced by the steady drip from rooftops. In the silence that followed, the weight of what he'd said hung heavy.

"So," Hana said softly, "what are you planning to do?"

Timothy's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone colder now, deliberate. "We can't build the future if we're paying a ransom for energy. The politicians won't fix this because they're profiting from it. So if no one else will build real infrastructure…"

"…then I'll build it myself."

Hana tilted her head, curious. "You mean—like renewable plants?"

"Renewable plants like solar and wind aren't sustainable in the long run. Sure they are green energy but the problem is that they are not base load."

"Base load?"

"Base load," Timothy repeated, leaning slightly forward. "It's the minimum level of demand on an electrical grid over twenty-four hours. Solar and wind can't guarantee that, they fluctuate depending on weather and daylight. What we need is constant, clean, and controllable power."

Hana's eyes widened slightly. "You're thinking nuclear."

Timothy grinned. "Yes."

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