With Infinite Money I Can Do Everything

Sleep, when it finally came, was deep and surprisingly dreamless. Perhaps the sheer volume of absurdity experienced in the preceding twelve hours had temporarily overloaded Jun-Jun's subconscious. He woke not to a blaring alarm, but to the gentle, simulated glow of sunrise filling his bedroom, orchestrated by the smart home system Mang George meticulously maintained.

His bedroom was as cavernous and minimalist as the rest of the house, dominated by a low-profile bed large enough to comfortably sleep a family of six. One wall was entirely glass, currently displaying a live, high-definition view of a tranquil beach in Palawan instead of the Makati skyline – Jun-Jun preferred tropical scenery upon waking. Another wall slid open silently at his voice command, revealing a walk-in closet the size of a small condominium, filled with racks of clothes ranging from simple, high-quality basics (like the t-shirt and jeans he'd worn yesterday) to bespoke suits and designer pieces he'd likely bought on a whim and forgotten about.

He padded barefoot across the cool, polished concrete floor into an equally palatial bathroom. He brushed his teeth with an electric toothbrush that probably cost more than a decent smartphone, rinsed with imported mineral water, and stepped into a shower complex that offered various settings like 'Amazon Rainforest Mist', 'Arctic Plunge', and 'Gentle Morning Dew'. He chose 'Gentle Morning Dew'.

As he showered, his mind began to hum again, replaying yesterday's highlights reel: the glorious chaos on EDSA, the bewildered faces of bribed drivers, the sheer delight of Operation Pandesal Freedom, the unexpected camaraderie with Mang Cardo, and finally, the sublime taste of Aling Nena's Halo-Halo. It had been a successful day. Efficient, too, in its own way. He'd identified a goal and achieved it, overcoming numerous obstacles through creative application of resources. What more could one ask for?

Wrapped in a ridiculously plush robe, he wandered back into the bedroom where Mang George had anticipated his needs. A tray with freshly brewed coffee (likely something rare and single-origin) and a tablet displaying curated news headlines sat on a low table.

"Good morning, Sir Jun-Jun," Mang George greeted, entering silently as Jun-Jun picked up the coffee. "I trust you slept well?"

"Like a log, Mang George! A log floating down a river of satisfied accomplishment!" Jun-Jun declared, taking a sip of coffee. "Any overnight developments on Operation Halo-Halo Aftermath?"

"Indeed, sir," Mang George consulted his own tablet. "Captain Reyes sent back the second fruit basket, the one containing the Belgian chocolates. It came with a terse note stating he is 'not open to consultancy positions at this time' and that the 'evaluation of charges is ongoing'."

Jun-Jun chuckled. "Feisty! I admire his incorruptibility. Almost." He waved a hand. "Keep the legal team on retainer. Triple their 'potential annoyance' budget."

"Already actioned, sir," Mang George confirmed. "Regarding the aerospace inquiries for the 'zero-gravity culinary project' – two preliminary responses expressing 'cautious interest pending clarification of payload and safety protocols' and requesting 'substantial feasibility funding'. One outright refusal citing 'non-viable mission parameters'."

"Cautious interest is basically a yes!" Jun-Jun decided optimistically. "Tell them I'll fund the feasibility studies. Wire them... oh, say, ten million dollars each? As a show of good faith."

Mang George made a note, his expression unchanged by the casual mention of multi-million dollar transfers. "Very good, sir. The car wash acquisition is finalized. Mr. Marasigan has already implemented extended operating hours and is drafting a proposal for premium party bus detailing packages."

"Excellent initiative!" Jun-Jun approved. "Give him a budget for upgrades. Maybe install a snack bar?"

"I shall inform him, sir. Finally, the bakery retrieved their truck early this morning. They accepted the compensation and expressed... relief. They politely declined the offer of free advertising but asked if you would refrain from using their vehicles in future 'promotional activities'."

"Fair enough," Jun-Jun conceded. "So, all loose ends tied up?"

"For the moment, sir," Mang George confirmed. "Your brunch reservation with Sir Migs at 'The Gilded Spoon' is confirmed for 11:00 AM. The patio is secured. The preliminary arrangements for the artisanal halo-halo have been made, though the chef expressed some... logistical concerns regarding the sourcing of Norwegian glacier ice on short notice. They are exploring high-altitude Alpine sources as an alternative."

"Alpine ice is acceptable," Jun-Jun magnanimously allowed. "Tell them creativity is key!"

He finished his coffee and headed back towards the closet, Mang George trailing him. "Right, brunch. Migs wants normal. What does one wear for 'normal'?" He surveyed the racks. "This simple linen shirt? Or maybe the one woven from moonbeams?"

"Perhaps the linen shirt, sir," Mang George suggested diplomatically. "It pairs well with understated chinos."

"Understated chinos it is!" Jun-Jun agreed, pulling them out. He dressed quickly, opting for simple, expensive loafers. He looked aggressively normal, if one ignored the faint aura of someone who could buy the entire street on a whim.

He checked his reflection, then glanced at his phone, confirming the '∞' balance was still comfortably infinite. He sent Migs a quick text: "Brunch still on? 11 AM. Don't worry, taking a normal car today. Mostly."

Migs' reply was swift: "Yes. Define 'mostly'."

Jun-Jun chuckled. "Mang George," he called out as he headed for the door. "Transport for brunch, please. The black Mercedes sedan today. And tell the driver... no convoys. Just a simple, direct route."

"Right away, sir," Mang George confirmed. "Your driver, Mateo, is waiting."

Jun-Jun stepped out of the cool, climate-controlled house into the bright Makati morning sun. A sleek, black Mercedes S-Class sedan idled silently in the driveway, Mateo holding the rear door open. It looked disappointingly conventional compared to yesterday's rides.

But, Jun-Jun reasoned as he slid into the plush leather seat, Migs had requested normalcy. He could indulge his friend for a few hours. Besides, the brunch itself promised some subtle absurdity with the bespoke halo-halo. And after brunch? The day was young. The possibilities – and his funds – remained infinite. Maybe he'd check on those feasibility studies for the zero-G flight. Or perhaps look into buying that organic ube farm in Bohol. One couldn't be too prepared, after all.