The crowdfunding campaign had worked better than anyone expected. Coins, pesos, even crumpled bills delivered in envelopes arrived daily at the warehouse, often carried by children with proud grins. Each one was logged and photographed, then uploaded to AquaPure's public ledger. The site showed everything—down to the price of zip ties and rolls of tape.
For a moment, it felt like the tide was turning.
But HydraCorp was never idle.
It began with whispers. Anonymous comments on AquaPure's page: "How do we know the money's real?" "Is Rafael pocketing funds?" Then came a blurry photo on social media—Rafael stepping out of a café, edited to look like he was meeting with a "foreign agent." Within days, the story spread through shady blogs: "AquaPure secretly bankrolled by outsiders."
Rosa read the posts aloud one evening, her hands trembling. "They're saying you're a fraud, anak. That you're no different from the rest."
Rafael leaned back, voice steady. "That's their game. If they can't kill us with bullets, they'll kill us with doubt."
The Codex whispered coldly in his vision:
"Hostile influence operation detected. Strategy: Infiltration of narrative, erosion of trust. Countermeasure: verification, third-party testimony, symbolic acts of accountability."
The next blow came harder. One of the NGO partners—trusted until now—announced a sudden "pause" in cooperation, citing "concerns about irregularities." The news hit like a hammer. Reporters pounced. Social media buzzed. Donations slowed.
Jericho slammed a box shut in frustration. "They bought them off! I bet HydraCorp waved cash and now they're pulling out!"
Maria's jaw tightened. "Maybe. But people won't care about reasons. All they'll see is that someone walked away."
Rafael's mind burned with calculations. The Codex displayed probabilities, each bleaker than the last: NGO infiltration, bribed auditors, compromised allies.
"Recommendation: radical demonstration of accountability. Create symbolic proof no one can fake."
Rafael stood, voice sharp. "Then we show them we're untouchable. Every peso, every straw, every shipment—we put it all in the open, not just online. We let anyone walk into this warehouse and see where their money goes."
Maria blinked. "You mean… full access? To everyone?"
"Yes," Rafael said. "If they want transparency, we'll give them something HydraCorp can never match."
The next morning, AquaPure threw open its doors. Families, students, barangay captains, even skeptical journalists streamed in. They walked the assembly line, touched the raw filters, watched the money count out in boxes before it went to payroll. Rosa explained each step with pride, Jericho gave tours like a practiced guide, and Maria fielded technical questions with her sharp, fearless wit.
One student livestreamed the whole tour, captioning it: "This is what real transparency looks like." The clip went viral.
HydraCorp scrambled to respond. They leaked "internal reports" claiming AquaPure's filters were faulty—only for independent labs to prove otherwise within hours. They bribed small-time bloggers to spread doubt—only for families who had visited the warehouse themselves to push back online: "I saw it with my own eyes. Don't believe HydraCorp's lies."
Still, the shadow campaign cut deep. The Codex tracked donation slowdowns, subtle drops in supplier cooperation, sudden "inspections" from government offices.
"Forecast: sustained erosion of support. Probability of NGO collapse: 39%. Probability of infiltration attempt within AquaPure staff: 22% and rising."
Rafael looked around at his crew that night. Maria soldering parts, Rosa humming as she packed boxes, Jericho tapping out delivery routes. His chest tightened. They weren't soldiers, but HydraCorp had marked them as targets in a war they didn't choose.
He clenched his fists. "If HydraCorp wants to poison the wells of trust, then we'll build new ones—wells they can't touch."
The Codex pulsed, offering new paths. "Option unlocked: Direct alliances with communities. Remove intermediaries. Trust flows strongest when personal."
Rafael smiled faintly. "Then that's what we'll do. No more middlemen. From now on, AquaPure goes straight to the people."
Outside, Manila pulsed with neon and noise. Inside the warehouse, resolve hardened. HydraCorp could smear, bribe, infiltrate, and whisper. But Rafael had chosen a weapon HydraCorp didn't understand: the loyalty of ordinary people who had touched clean water with their own hands.
And loyalty, once earned, was harder to kill than any rumor.