"It’s a concrete obstacle, a small nuisance that makes life difficult for ordinary people."

"You may not be able to change the entire city’s financial structure right now. You may not be able to defeat Moretti right now."

"But fixing a door threshold? That, you can do."

Leo stood up.

He took off his suit jacket and casually tossed it onto a nearby chair.

He unfastened his cufflinks and was about to roll up his shirt sleeves.

"Stop, Leo."

Roosevelt chided him. "Put your sleeves down and put your suit back on."

Leo’s hands froze mid-air. He was confused. "Why? Didn’t you tell me to solve the immediate problem? I was just about to get a hammer..."

"You are the Mayor of Pittsburgh City now, not a carpenter on a construction site," Roosevelt cut in, his tone sharp with disappointed exasperation. "Even if you get on your knees right now, sweating bullets while you plane this piece of wood flat, it will have zero political significance beyond offering some cheap relief for your own overflowing guilt."

Leo froze.

"Use your head," Roosevelt continued, his pace slowing as he began to guide him. "You fix this one threshold yourself, and Margaret will be grateful. But there are thousands of people like Margaret in this city, and thousands of thresholds like this one, blocking their wheelchairs."

"Are you going to fix them one by one? Could you even finish?"

"You’re burying yourself in trivial manual labor. Have you forgotten the weapon you hold in your hands?"

"Leo, this requires a fundamental shift in your way of thinking," Roosevelt said. "It’s a shift you can’t learn just by stirring up emotions on the street or engaging in political struggles in the office."

"It’s the instinct of a political animal."

"You’re not supposed to fix this piece of wood. you’re supposed to fix a rule, to make a statement."

"You need to use an executive order to fix it, use the taxpayers’ money to fix it, and you need to let everyone know that it was you—Mayor Leo Wallace—who used the power in your hands to swiftly solve the people’s problems."

Clarity returned to Leo’s eyes, and his breathing steadied.

He slowly lowered his half-rolled-up sleeve, refastened the cufflink, then picked up his suit jacket, put it back on, and smoothed out the wrinkles.

"Frank!" Leo shouted.

Frank, who was pointing at something nearby, turned his head. Seeing Leo’s serious expression, he paused for a second before jogging over.

"What’s up, Leo? You want me to find someone to borrow tools from? I’ve got a good saw in my car."

"No."

Leo shook his head.

He pulled a pen and a small notebook from his pocket, quickly scribbled a line, then tore out the page and handed it to Frank.

"First thing tomorrow morning, take this note and find someone from the Municipal Public Works Department."

"Tell them there’s a serious safety hazard here that threatens public safety. I’m ordering them to immediately dispatch a professional repair team."

"I want them to level this threshold and install a non-slip ramp within one day. The cost will be deducted directly from the general fund’s emergency expenditure."

Frank held the note, looking a bit baffled at the messy handwriting.

"But... Leo, this is a tiny job. I could grab a hammer from the utility room and have it done in two minutes. Is it really worth bothering those bureaucrats at Public Works? And using emergency funds, no less?"

"Just do as I say, Frank."

Leo didn’t lower his voice. Instead, he deliberately raised it so the surrounding residents could hear.

"This isn’t just about fixing a threshold. This is about procedure. It’s about rules. More importantly, it shows City Hall’s meticulous care for the residents of our community."

Then, Leo leaned closer to Frank and quickly added in a voice only the two of them could hear:

"Also, send a message to Sarah. Have her send someone over to take pictures of the Public Works crew on the job. I’ve even thought of a headline: ’Mayor on Site, Solves Long-Standing Community Problem in Five Minutes.’"

"This isn’t just road repair. This is a political achievement. Got it?"

With that, Leo gave the bewildered Frank a quick wink with his left eye.

It was a fleeting gesture, tinged with a hint of cunning.

Frank paused for a moment.

He looked at Leo’s dead-serious face, then down at the note in his hand that read "Emergency Funding."

A spark of understanding flashed in his eyes. He broke into a wide, knowing grin.

’This kid,’ he thought, ’is becoming more and more like a real politician.’

"Understood, Mr. Mayor," Frank replied loudly, playing along with Leo’s performance. He carefully tucked the note into his jacket pocket. "This is a serious public safety hazard. It must go through official channels and be fast-tracked. I’ll call them first thing tomorrow. If they dare to delay, I’ll file a complaint for reckless endangerment!"

Leo nodded in satisfaction, adjusted the collar of his suit, and turned to wave goodbye to Margaret and the other residents before striding out of the community center.

He got into the black Lincoln sedan, and the door closed, shutting out the cold wind.

"Home, sir?" the driver asked.

Leo leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes, and tapped a rhythm on his knee with his fingers.

The scene from just moments ago replayed in his mind.

Small sums of money.

Emergency hazards.

Administrative procedures.

Discretionary power.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning flashed through his mind.

’If fixing a door threshold can be done under the guise of a "safety hazard," bypassing the city council and using emergency funds...’

’...then what about fixing a streetlight?’

’What about fixing a manhole cover?’

’What about fixing a cracked step?’

Moretti was blocking his "Revival Plan" budget by using the council’s legislative approval authority.

He wanted to use long hearings and voting processes to bog down the twenty million in funding until it was dead in the water.

However, for minor emergency repairs related to public safety, the Mayor possessed direct executive authority.

As long as something was classified as an "emergency safety hazard" and the individual cost was below a certain threshold, the executive branch could directly use existing municipal maintenance funds without needing to go through the council’s lengthy hearing process at all.

Leo’s mind suddenly cleared, a path opening up before him.

’What if he broke down the grand projects into ten thousand tiny "emergency repairs"?’

’And what if all these "emergency repairs" were concentrated in the communities planned for the second phase of the Revival Plan?’

His eyes snapped open.

In the Hill District and Brooklyn District, the areas for his "Revival Plan Phase Two," there had to be countless "thresholds" like today’s waiting to be repaired, countless flickering streetlights, and countless potholed streets.

"No, not home."

Leo’s voice was filled with the excitement of someone who had just discovered a new world.

"Back to City Hall."

"Now."