The Art of Negotiation

Woolworth Building, MACUSA.

As dusk gave way to night, another ordinary yet busy workday came to an end. A large crowd of weary Congress officials formed a long queue before the fireplaces in the lobby. No one paid attention to Chairman Kouhaug's impassioned voice coming from the broadcast above them, swearing something to the wizarding world's residents.

For Trake Grevis, however, getting off work on time was merely a conceptual notion.

Just like his grandfather, Percival Grevis, he served as the head of both the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Magical Security at MACUSA. Work and life had long since become inseparably intertwined for him.

After dealing with the New York Ghostly Times reporters' questions about why the Department of Security had yet to solve the disappearance of dangerous magical creatures, and why the three people implicated in the recent Venomous Tentacula trafficking case had not been brought to justice within seventy-two hours, Grevis left the conference room. The subordinate who had been waiting outside entered at his signal. What followed was nothing more than a tedious exchange of money and power.

The sun had already been completely obscured by the endless layers of skyscrapers built by Muggles. Against the dim, dusky sky, a waning crescent moon had begun to emerge faintly.

After hesitating for a moment, Grevis did not return to his office. Instead, he took an elevator reserved for department heads and arrived at a restaurant in the middle of the building.

There were very few people dining in the restaurant. Naturally, given the choice, people preferred to go home and have dinner with their families.

He strolled over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of black coffee, then picked up two sandwiches from the counter. Grevis chose a seat by the window and