he next morning, John sat at the kitchen table, staring at the steaming cup of instant coffee his grandmother had made. The world outside looked the same as it always had tricycles buzzing down the street, kids running barefoot, a radio blaring 90s ballads.
But to him, everything had changed.
He now held twenty years of knowledge in his head. Knowledge that could reshape not only his future, but perhaps even his country.
"Lola," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "How's your stall at the market doing?"
His grandmother looked up, surprised. "The same as always. Hard, but it pays for rice. Why do you ask?"
John leaned forward, his young eyes sharp with focus. "What if we change a few things? What if you didn't just sell vegetables, but packaged them neatly, labeled by weight, and ready for cooking? Housewives would pay extra for convenience."
Lola chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Ay, Juanito. You and your big ideas. People just want cheap food."
But John wasn't discouraged. He remembered: two decades later, supermarkets would dominate because of the exact thing he just described convenience. Even small-scale vendors who adapted early had prospered.
"We'll try it," he said firmly. "I'll help you this week."
That afternoon, John went with Lola to the market. He noticed how competitors haggled endlessly with customers, often losing profit just to make a sale. Lola, kind as ever, gave regulars small freebies extra onions, a bit more garlic.
John knew this was good for loyalty, but terrible for income.
"Lola," he whispered as he helped bag vegetables, "we're not just selling food we're selling time. If we sort these into ready-to-cook sets like a bundle of onions, tomatoes, and garlic for adobo we can charge more."
At first, she laughed at the odd idea. But when a housewife passed by and bought two of John's "adobo packs" without hesitation, Lola's eyes widened. By the end of the day, they had sold everything faster than usual, and with better margins.
Lola shook her head in disbelief. "Juanito… how did you know this would work?"
John simply smiled. "Let's just say I've seen it before."
That night, John lay in bed, his mind racing. Today proved something important: even the smallest foresight could change lives. But vegetables were only the beginning.
He pulled out his notepad again and began jotting down more immediate plays.
> "Dollar to peso exchange… 1997 collapse incoming. I need dollars before then.
Lotto memorized some winning sequences, but risky. Avoid for now.
Stocks… PLDT, Globe, Ayala Land. Buy when cheap, ride the telecom boom.
Side hustle: help Lola scale her stall into something bigger proof of concept."
His pen tapped against the paper. The biggest obstacle wasn't opportunity it was credibility. Who would listen to an 18-year-old boy with no degree, no experience, and no capital?
John clenched his fist. "If I want the banks, the investors, the businessmen to take me seriously… I need to build from the ground up. I need my first million, no matter how small the start."
Two days later, John visited a pawnshop. He had quietly taken a few old appliances from storage things his grandmother no longer used and sold them for cash. Not much, but enough for his first move.
He went straight to a money changer in the city. The clerk raised an eyebrow when John, a teenager in worn-out shoes, handed over pesos to buy U.S. dollars.
"You sure, kid? Peso's stable now. Dollar's not moving much," the clerk said.
John forced a smile. "I'm sure."
As the crisp bills slid across the counter, John felt a thrill. He knew what everyone else didn't: in just two years, during the Asian financial crisis, the peso would collapse from 26 to nearly 50 per dollar. This small stash, insignificant today, would double in value overnight.
It was a humble beginning, but every empire started small.
That evening, John sat on the rooftop of their house, watching the Manila skyline glow faintly in the distance.
He thought about his assassination again the bullet, the chaos, the helplessness. In his past life, he had tried to fight with speeches, with legal documents, with evidence. But the system had devoured him.
This time, it would be different.
"I'll build wealth first," he whispered into the night air. "Enough to stand above them. Enough to make them listen. And when the time comes, I'll use it not just to survive… but to strike back."
The city lights shimmered like a promise.
For the first time since his return, John Smith felt not fear but hope