Alex rushed the next day straight to the university. And we have distribution, smoke is a rocker. The course is quite small, only mentalists are traditionally taken to psychologists, so cars of potential employers solemnly gathered at the main administrative building: from a modest gray pickup truck of the Psychological Support Service to a chrome-plated two-story monster from the Green Fairy House. Hmm… And what are they doing here, have they really come for someone?

I was not threatened with special interest of personnel officers. For many years now I have shown the lowest result on all tests - the first empathic level.

Large corporations, headed in our sector by werewolves or vampires, have little interest in first-level mentalists, considering people like me at best for the position of the class "seventh waiter of the fourth assistant."

And for the higher fae, such a development of talent ... is completely below the plinth. Between "hmm, what are you talking about?" and “does that happen?”.

So I was rubbing my hands quite... ahem... I mean, I was very sad, planning to confirm my fu-fu-level and get official permission from the university to open a private psychological office. And then - a chicken by grain, enough for my grandmother and me.

We, empaths, the most we can do is to accidentally catch flashes of other people's emotions.

Some losers even poorly understand where their own and where someone else's, get confused in their own feelings. And according to rumors, some of my classmates, comrades in the first level, run to each other for consultations, enthusiastically curing anxiety and regular tantrums.

Second-level society appreciates.

And starting from the third stage, mentalists are already obliged to go to specialized educational institutions in order to control their forces. And, judging by the shiny car under the windows, one of the graduates showed an impressive development in the measurement.

“Sorry, Evka, I couldn’t meet you yesterday,” Alex chatted, embracing my shoulders and at the same time looking at the graduates crowded in the corridor with the interest of a hunter. Girls among psychologists are traditionally the majority, and many are not averse to meeting a handsome werewolf, only my presence is a little embarrassing. - I wrote to you, it was useless to resist parents! They grabbed right on. Well, we rarely talked, they were only allowed to visit during the holidays.

Uh-huh, and others have not seen you at all for four years. Eh.

"All right," I said conciliatoryly, stroking the lapel of his expensive blue jacket, embellished with fine embroidery in faerie fashion. Even in his closed university, Alex remained a lover of forcing. - Shall we sit in a cafe tonight? Now I don't. I passed the level, but I need to draw up documents and receive official distribution. There, look how the people are worried, it's a hellish day.

Yes, I can't right now. I just stopped by for a couple of minutes to see you. Listen, I don’t understand why you are boiling at all, you will all be one hundred percent employed. In the same police, you are the most requested, as far as I know, they even take empaths. All rapid reaction units have a mentalist headquarters.

- Uh. I don’t plan to go to the civil service,” I answered cautiously.

Yes Yes. During our separation, alas, I had secrets from my best friend - the most strange. Previously, we were not shy about sharing absolutely everything, we didn’t bother with secrets at all. I knew the names of the girls with whom the loving werewolf managed to kiss, and he, the only one, was aware of my attempts to write romantic poems dedicated to the swimming coach, whom I saw a couple of times at school competitions. Alex did not laugh at the "girly" romance, but helped with the rhymes. "Blood-love", "Water-trouble" and stuff like that.

- Oh, Evka, where do you want to get a job?

The eyes of the werewolf lit up with curiosity, but I did not have time to answer. The white-haired Mrs. Crowder, our faculty secretary, stepped out of the office of the Vocational Distribution Commission. Behind her, two breathtakingly languid young men swam out with a sliding step. In silks and lace, with long curls over her shoulders and cold smiles on her well-groomed faces. Hm. Clearly human servants from the faerie dominion.

Our group of three dozen graduates, previously spread out along the corridor, began to actively move closer to the administrative office and the trinity that came out.

Several recognized beauties of the course sighed loudly. Those who had previously shot with their eyes at Alex turned their backs to the werewolf and pushed with their elbows, trying to get into the first row, in front of the eyes of the handsome handsome men of human blood. I barely suppressed a smile as I looked at my friend's long, resentful face.

The highest sidhe made up the world nobility, there were very few of them, they rarely appeared among people, so even seemingly simple servants of the Houses caused excitement and curiosity. Getting to know them is the dream of many girls.

"Mr. Corey Robus," the secretary read out a name from the list.

My classmate, a thin, pole-like guy with whom we often talked during the years of study, a small course, upon hearing his name, pressed his hands to his chest as if in prayer and stepped forward.

Mrs. Crowder cleared her throat excitedly.

- You have confirmed the enhancement of mental abilities to the third level, congratulations. Under the Human Talent Development Act, we have reported you to higher educational institutions for further education. Mr. Corey, - her voice trembled. A gray tuft swayed on a half-fallen hairpin. The small blue eyes softened. The secretary of the faculty was a kind woman and worried about us as if she were family. - You are extremely lucky, there is exactly one place left in the Green House Academy and our dean managed to put in a word. Dear Corey, may fate continue to favor you!

The guy swayed. I almost fell under the impression of luck that collapsed on him.

- Mr. Robus, - one of the elegant long-haired young men smoothly approached him and grabbed his elbow. – Your strength is growing and needs to be professionally cut. If you try, you will become one of the most respected citizens, but for now, we will take you home, help you fill out the documents and answer all your questions.

- No distribution?

Lucky was clearly out of his mind and could not believe what was happening.

- Without any distribution. Absolutely! You are going to study further and will soon be living on the territory of the Green House.

Robus' emotions flooded the hallway. Even the most impenetrable of us felt the streams of pure, clear, dizzying happiness.

The corridor was filled with congratulations and shouts of delight. I also muttered a couple of warm, appropriate words - if a man dreamed of dominions, let his wishes come true. It's not often you see a dream come true.

- I'm taking it, - moaned the blonde next to me. The second servant of the Green House gave her a glance, raised an eyebrow, and turned away.

People who work in the dominions are said to adopt the habits of their masters, and faeries in love affairs were famous for, to put it mildly, exotic tastes. Ordinary people like us were of little interest to them.

My grandmother Annette, a modern woman with fantasy, in the evenings over a glass of red, not alien to dreamy conclusions, somehow suggested that the sidhe, they are the highest fairies of the Houses, prefer special personalities, unusual ones. Therefore, they allow people with strong talents to get into the dominions.

For me, it’s not clear what kind of joy it is to be someone’s toy?

But a classmate standing nearby was clearly upset, looking almost with tears at the retreating backs of our former classmate and his two escorts.

- Why he?! Why did this pimply pimple develop talent?

An inaudible continuation sounded: “Why not such a clever and beautiful woman like me?”.