I'm The King of Business & Technology in the Modern World-Chapter 234: Unveiled Silence

March 21, 2026 — 7:20 AMSingapore — Marina Bay Sands Convention Centre

The expo hall hadn't opened yet, but the air already buzzed with anticipation.

Clean white banners hung from the high ceilings, bearing the insignia of ASEAN's ten member states. Modular booths lined the edges—some from traditional manufacturers showcasing their latest EVs, others pushing green scooters, autonomous buses, and solar integration tech.

But at the heart of it all—dead center under a massive overhead ring of programmable lights—stood a raised black platform with a single vehicle under wraps.

No logos.

No preview.

Just the press code name:

"Project 05X."

Matthew stood backstage in a slim-cut dark suit, eyes on the monitor displaying a live feed from the main floor.

Angel joined him moments later, adjusting the mic clipped to her collar.

"Floor's at full capacity," she said. "Journalists. Policy reps. A couple of sovereign fund envoys from Abu Dhabi and Jakarta. One guy in sunglasses who I'm pretty sure is CIA."

Matthew smirked. "You think they're here for the show?"

Angel shook her head. "They're here for the shift."

He nodded slowly. "Let's give it to them."

—

March 21, 2026 — 9:00 AMASEAN Mobility Expo — Central Stage

The lights dimmed.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Then a voice echoed through the vast auditorium—calm, precise, unmistakable.

Angel Cruz.

"Good morning."

The large screen behind the veiled vehicle lit up with a slow-motion shot of a typical Southeast Asian street—jeepneys weaving between pedestrians, scooters darting around food carts. Over the imagery, Angel's voice continued.

"Mobility in our region isn't just about cars. It's about noise, density, heat, and unpredictability. It's about resilience."

The video changed: The Aerus gliding silently between morning traffic in Olongapo. Cut to a wide shot of Marina Bay with a single subtitle:

"She's already here."

On stage, the cloth cover lifted.

Gasps.

The Aerus stood revealed in full display—sleek silver, aerodynamic lines traced by pale blue lighting threads, a seamless chassis with no visible exhaust, no grille, no intake. Just one continuous surface that looked less like a car and more like a sculpture that had chosen to move.

Angel stepped forward.

"This is the Sentinel Aerus."

Cameras flashed. Phones lifted. Screens glowed.

No one spoke.

So Angel did.

"A car without pistons. Without lithium. Without compromise."

She walked slowly around it, every movement intentional.

"Powered by a micro gas turbine that can run on aviation synth blends, kerosene, or biofuel. Aerus has no transmission. No gears. It starts like a whisper and drives like air."

The screen behind her showed real-world clips of the turbine startup—no noise spikes, just soft acceleration.

"In testing, Aerus achieved 31 kilometers per liter. In public surveys, 96% of respondents described it as 'quieter than any vehicle' they'd ever seen."

A pause.

Then:

"And now, it's Singapore's."

The audience erupted in applause.

But Matthew, standing just offstage, wasn't smiling yet.

He knew the bigger test hadn't even started.

—

March 21, 2026 — 12:15 PMSentinel Display Booth — ASEAN Mobility Expo, Main Floor

The Aerus was now cordoned off under a soft halo light, its doors open, turbine chamber partially exposed for journalists.

Minister Darius Lim of Singapore arrived personally with a cluster of foreign delegates.

Angel welcomed him with a handshake.

"You've made our nation proud," Lim said softly. "And you've forced the rest of the region to ask the right questions."

Angel gestured toward the vehicle. "Then let's answer them together."

As the ministers approached the Aerus, more camera crews swarmed in.

Matthew handled technical questions with ease—weight distribution, emergency power protocols, turbine safety systems.

A BBC correspondent pulled him aside.

"Mr. Borja, is it true the Aerus runs without rare earths? No cobalt, no lithium?"

"True," Matthew said. "We rely on air, fuel, and a lot of pressure. That's the beauty of a turbine."

"And how scalable is it?"

Matthew didn't blink. "We're ready to ship by Q4 this year. Volume manufacturing depends on partnerships, not feasibility."

Behind them, murmurs spread.

Chinese delegates from Geely. Korean reps from Hyundai. German engineers from Bosch.

Everyone was watching.

Some were nodding.

Others frowning.

But no one was dismissing them anymore.

—

March 21, 2026 — 2:30 PMPrivate Media Lounge — ASEAN Mobility Expo

Angel and Matthew finally took a break, tucked behind the curtain of the media lounge. Carina joined them, holding a bottle of water in each hand and looking like she'd just run a marathon.

"Thirty-eight interviews," she said. "Twenty-two were off-record. Five were intelligence probes disguised as journalists. And one woman from Jakarta just wanted to know if she could preorder."

Angel chuckled. "Did you get her number?"

"I got her business card. She's married. To the Minister of Industry."

Matthew was silent for a moment.

Then he asked quietly, "Did you see Watanabe?"

Angel's expression darkened slightly. "Back row. Not speaking. Just watching."

"Which means Japan's still deciding."

"Or waiting to see if we collapse under our own weight."

Matthew glanced at his tablet.

"Viewership for the livestream just hit 18 million. ASEAN audience alone accounts for 11. We're trending in every tech feed across Asia."

Angel closed her eyes for a second. "Good."

But behind her calm tone was a quiet tremor.

She knew this wasn't just a spotlight anymore.

It was a target.

—

March 21, 2026 — 6:00 PMRitz-Carlton Singapore — Diplomatic Reception Hall

The post-expo reception was invitation-only.

Champagne flowed. Plates clinked. Conversations sparkled in five languages.

Angel stood near the window, looking out over the city skyline, when a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.

"You've redefined what's possible," said a woman in a navy blue suit, her name tag reading Dr. Evelyn Chu — Taiwan, Ministry of Economic Affairs.

Angel turned and nodded politely.

"We're just catching up to what should've been possible ten years ago."

Chu smiled. "Perhaps. But sometimes it takes the right storm to bring the right wind."

Angel raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of wind is Taiwan hoping for?"

Chu's smile didn't falter. "One that moves without needing permission."

She extended a card.

"When you're ready to expand manufacturing outside the Philippines… we're interested."

Angel took it, slipping it into her clutch.

She didn't answer.

But she didn't have to.

Because the game had changed.

And every nation in the room now knew it.

—

March 21, 2026 — 11:15 PMSentinel Delegation Quarters — Marina Bay Suites

The lights were low.

Matthew sat on the couch, shirt unbuttoned, drink in hand. Aurora's picture sat on the side table beside a stack of unused press passes.

Angel stood at the window in a satin robe, her hair still loosely pinned from the gala.

"Do you think we did it?" she asked softly.

Matthew looked up.

"No," he said.

She turned slightly, frowning.

He smiled.

"We didn't do it."

He raised his glass.

"We started it."

Angel walked over and sat beside him. They didn't speak for a while.

The city outside sparkled.

Quiet.

Measured.

Beautiful.

And beneath it all, the hum of a turbine prototype—still being test-driven in secret, under escort, in Singapore's innovation corridor—never once breaking the noise limit.

The age of the combustion engine had ended with a roar.

The next one?

Had begun with a whisper.