Chapter 18: Old Connections

Chapter 18 - 18: Old ConnectionsBy the time they arrived at the estate gates, the sun was already setting, casting a warm golden glow over the horizon. The once-busy entrance was noticeably quieter, with fewer trucks than yesterday. Instead, the area was now occupied by sleek SUVs, luxury sedans, and pickup trucks, all neatly parked in rows.

Richard immediately noticed the change in atmosphere—there were more security guards stationed at the gate, some carrying pump-action shotguns while others had handguns holstered at their sides. The mood felt serious, almost like a corporate fortress rather than a family estate.

Jack slowly approached the main gate, rolling down his driver-side window as one of the armed guards stepped forward. The man gave a sharp look inside the vehicle, scanning both Jack and Richard, before nodding to another guard stationed at a booth.

With a metallic clank, the gate unlocked, and the guard waved them through.

Jack drove in casually, as if this whole security process was nothing new.

Richard, however, raised an eyebrow. "Damn... why the strict security?"

Jack chuckled, keeping his eyes on the road. "Ahh... Grandpa's executives are here. They're delivering their weekly sales reports, expense sheets, and inventory summaries. It's the usual routine, but whenever they're here, security's always a hassle."

Richard leaned back in his seat, glancing around at the estate's large courtyard. He could already spot guards patrolling the perimeter, some stationed near the parked vehicles while others stood near the entrance of the mansion.

Jack turned onto the concrete driveway leading up to the mansion, steering the vehicle to the left, which sloped gently upward. As they ascended, Richard noticed a group of men gathered on the grassy yard, sitting around a large metal table with a massive umbrella in the center.

There was a mix of old and middle-aged men, some fat, some thin, all laughing and conversing over what looked like cups of coffee and stacks of documents.

Richard nodded toward them. "Those the executives?"



Jack smirked. "Yeah. Even Uncle Ronnie is there."

Richard scanned the group, spotting a tall, heavyset man in his fifties, wearing a loose polo shirt and slacks, laughing loudly while holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. Uncle Ronnie. He seemed relaxed, yet his presence carried a distinct air of authority.

As they approached the garage doors leading to the basement workspace, one of the security guards stationed nearby pressed a button on the control panel.

With a low mechanical whir, the heavy garage door began to rise, revealing the well-lit underground space.

Jack smoothly drove inside, the garage door automatically closing behind them.

Richard let out a breath and smirked. "Man... your family really runs this place like a damn corporation."

Jack laughed. "You have no idea."

As the car came to a stop, the real work was just about to begin.

As the Land Cruiser rolled to a stop inside the basement garage, Jack and Richard hopped out, stretching their legs after the long drive.

Without wasting time, they began unloading the boxes of PC components, carefully stacking them in front of the glass-walled office that occupied the far side of the garage.

Richard wiped his forehead, glancing around the workspace. The office itself was spacious, with clean white walls, a large desk in the center, a spinning leather chair, and a tall wooden shelf behind it, giving off a distinctly corporate vibe.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do we really need to renovate this? I mean, it already looks pretty damn good. It's got an aircon, plenty of space... This is big enough for a game studio, right?"

Jack let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "Nahh. Maybe for you, this is fine. But dude, we need an actual environment that screams 'gaming studio.'"

Richard gave him a skeptical look. "It's just an office, man."

Jack waved a hand around dramatically. "Exactly! Look at this place—it's got plain white walls, sterile lighting... It feels like a damn corporate office! It's boring, stressful, and totally uninspiring."

Richard exhaled, crossing his arms. "So what's your vision then, Mr. Interior Designer?"

Jack grinned, already brimming with ideas. "First, we paint the walls light green—a more relaxed, creative color. Then, we design our studio logo, get it 3D printed, and mount it up there with some LED backlights to make it pop." He gestured toward the empty space on the wall. "Next, we throw in some potted plants for aesthetics, slap some gaming posters on the walls, and get a proper mood lighting setup—you know, RGB lights, maybe a neon strip behind the desk, the whole shebang."

Richard smirked. "So basically... you wanna make it look like some fancy tech startup?"

Jack laughed. "Exactly! If we're gonna be a game studio, we should feel like one. A cool workspace helps boost creativity, man."

Richard nodded slowly, rubbing his chin. "Alright, alright. You sold me. But just don't go overboard—I don't want it looking like a nightclub in here."

Jack grinned. "Trust me, bro, it's gonna be legendary."

With their workspace vision set, they turned back to the stacked PC component boxes, knowing that the real work was about to begin.

Just as Jack and Richard were about to unload the last few boxes and take their clothes upstairs to their rooms, a guard standing at the staircase just outside the office called out.

"Sirs, Don Estello calls for you both."

Jack sighed, rolling his eyes as he dropped the box he was holding.

"Here we go..." he muttered under his breath.



Richard, noticing his reaction, raised an eyebrow. "Why the long face?" he asked as they followed the guard toward the mansion.

Jack groaned. "It's that introduction and social bullshit again. TL;DR: We introduce ourselves to Grandpa's executives, shake hands, fake smiles, talk, talk, talk... I just wish this gets done quickly." S~eaʀᴄh the Novelƒire(.)ne*t website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Richard smirked. "Sounds like a nightmare for you, huh?"

Jack shot him a flat look. "Bro, I'd rather be troubleshooting a GPU failure for five hours than sit through this."

As they stepped inside the mansion, Don Estello was already waiting for them in the grand hallway. The old man's sharp eyes lit up as he saw them.

"Ah, here they are." He stepped between them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders before gently guiding them toward the grassy open yard on the right side of the mansion.

The warm glow of the sunset bathed the yard, casting long shadows over the large metal table where a group of middle-aged men sat, engaged in animated conversation. They were businessmen, dressed in a mix of barong tagalog, polo shirts, and expensive wristwatches. Some were lean and sharp-eyed, others were portly and jolly, but all had the air of men who wielded influence.

As they approached, Estello leaned slightly toward Jack and muttered, "Don't worry, Jackie. I know you hate this kind of thing. It'll be quick."

Jack just nodded silently, but his face still showed mild suffering.

Estello then turned to Richard. "Richie, I know you're not used to this either, but listen—building social connections with people like them is important. One day, they might be of great use to you both. They may be my executives, but they are also some of the most well-known and well-connected people in the region."

Richard nodded slowly, his mind already racing. Connections, huh? Makes sense. Right now, it's all about the game, but in the long run... who knows? If we really want to take things further, having the right people on our side could make life easier. No red tape, no unnecessary obstacles. Maybe this isn't as pointless as Jack thinks. Still, all this social stuff? Not really my thing. But if it helps us move forward, then I guess I'll play along

He exhaled, bringing himself back to reality.

For now, let's focus on what's in front of us.

As they approached the gathering, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and grilled seafood lingered in the cool evening air. The sky was a mix of orange and deep blue, signaling the end of the day. Several round tables were scattered across the grassy yard, each occupied by men in casual yet expensive-looking clothing, some with cigars in hand, others with whiskey glasses glinting under the patio lights.

Jack and Richard barely had time to take in the scene before Estello motioned for them to sit in the remaining empty seats. Jack took a seat beside his Uncle Ronnie, who gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. Richard, on the other hand, found himself between two middle-aged men, one of whom gave him a curious glance before returning his attention to Estello.

With a commanding yet warm presence, Estello cleared his throat and began speaking.

"Gentlemen, I won't keep you long from your drinks and food," he started, drawing chuckles from the older executives. "But I'd like to take a moment to introduce—or rather, reintroduce—my grandson, Jack. Some of you may remember him as that little troublemaker running around here years ago."

At that, a few of the older men at the table laughed and nodded in recognition.

"Dios mio! I remember you, boy," one of them said, pointing at Jack. "You used to run around playing soldier with a toy rifle, bothering the guards!"

Another executive, slightly balding with silver-rimmed glasses, smirked. "Didn't he also steal a fish straight from the drying racks and try to cook it himself?"

Jack let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "I plead the fifth on that one."

The table erupted into laughter, the atmosphere shifting into something more relaxed. Estello allowed the moment to pass before continuing.

"But today, he's no longer that little boy. He's here to start something new, something ambitious."

Jack straightened slightly, his usual laid-back demeanor giving way to a more serious expression.

Estello then turned to Richard, placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

"And this young man here," he said, pausing for a moment, letting the room settle, "is Richard Santanamo. My grandson, per se."

A few of the older executives froze for a second before murmurs broke out among them. Some exchanged surprised glances, while others leaned forward with interest.



"Wait... Santanamo?" one of them repeated.

Another executive, an older gentleman with deep wrinkles and a thick Visayan accent, adjusted his glasses and looked at Richard closely. "By God... You're Mario's grandson?"

Richard, caught off guard by the sudden attention, simply nodded. "Yes, sir."

The older men at the table looked at one another, their expressions shifting from surprise to fond nostalgia.

"Your grandfather, Mario... he was a good man," one of them said, nodding firmly. "One of the kindest, most hardworking people I ever met."

"Too kind, sometimes!" another old-timer chuckled. "If he were alive today, I bet he'd still be helping out at the docks even though he didn't have to!"

A third man, slightly tipsy but still sharp-witted, leaned in with a smirk. "Hell, when we were younger, he used to help us with our fishing quotas—just so we wouldn't get scolded by Estello over there."

At that, a round of laughter spread through the table. Estello simply shook his head with an amused smile. "Damn right I scolded you lot. You'd be drinking half the time instead of working."

Richard, who had remained quiet, felt a warmth in his chest. He had never really known his grandfather personally—he had only heard stories from his parents and seen a few old photographs. But hearing these men speak about him like an old friend made it feel as though a part of his grandfather was still here.

Jack nudged him slightly. "Didn't expect you to be famous, huh?"

Richard let out a small chuckle. "Yeah, no kidding."

The banter and reminiscing continued for a while, the atmosphere now lighthearted and familiar. Richard, though not much of a talker in social situations like these, found himself listening intently to the stories, appreciating the way these men honored his grandfather's memory.