- But as? The curator looked at me with curiosity. – What did you expect? You may not look like your mother at all, but you are still a quadroon, a quarter elf. Like the opposite sex for you - a natural state. You could not imagine how this affair with the viscount would end?

“Don’t educate me,” I asked, not knowing what to say, “better tell me what to do?”

He sighed and leaned his cheek on his hand and became thoughtful, as if he were giving a lecture in a pulpit.

- You know, I had a friend, he studied why elves need such a sign as glamor and why it is transmitted even to half-breeds, - the curator unexpectedly smiled slyly, - and he concluded: because of the expansiveness of the elven civilization. They themselves are more fragile than the same orcs, for example, but even if the invasion of the elven vanguard into the world fails, the elves are not killed just because of this supernatural attraction. And then newly appeared wives and concubines become mothers. The half-elf is a time trap, because the core elf genes will show up in just a generation, you know? And after some forty or fifty years, a springboard for a new full-fledged invasion appears in the world.

- I don't understand, - I shrugged my shoulders, - you want to say that the culture is preserved? Through a generation?

The mage shook his head.

- Imagine, this is not required. Only heredity. Do you know where the elves came from?

I honestly tried to remember the lectures on the types of sentient beings.

“From some original world of theirs?”

- That's right, from Star City. Concurrently, an incredibly powerful source of magical or even divine power. And knowledge about it is stored in hereditary memory. You can tell right in the blood. And besides this knowledge, there is also the ability to use elven magic. And if now the curtain between the worlds breaks, the Star Bridge opens, silver columns march along it under colored banners, and the power of the Star City pours into our world - then you will have the opportunity to completely ... uh ... go to their source of magic as way of life.

- And then what? - I looked at him in amazement, they didn’t tell anything like that in the classroom.

“And then you will become an elf,” he smiled.

- Like this?! Right with the ears, their eyes and everything else?

- Not really. The body will change, but not much, although you will begin to resemble an elf in appearance too. An elf is a creature that lives on the power of the Star City. Here are quadroons like you from worlds where the first invasion failed and become side branches of the elves. Like alfar or drow.

- Whom? I asked.

Everyone heard about the drow, they even regularly appeared in fashion, but the second word was unfamiliar.

- Dark and snow elves. For example.

- Because of this source of power, they become almost immortal? And because of this, there are legends that half-breeds, as it were, have the right to choose who to be?

- Yes.

- And the people?

- What people?

- What do they live on?

- Mortals have a soul, - the curator simply shrugged, raising his hand, - just don't ask what it is. I didn't mean to lecture you like that. I just wanted to say that you need to be more careful in your actions. You have too much of an elven teenager just that age.

- Nonsense? I asked with a wry smile.

- Carelessness. curiosity. Protest.

I glanced at my manicure, gaining a couple of seconds, and looked up at the family friend again.

“I would rather remain human,” I said very seriously.

- Do not promise. It starts to work like... longing. Through other lands, another sky, the Star City, the Eternal Sea and the cries of seagulls. First dreams, then an obsession, and then - a new generation of elves, although not higher ones, turned out.

“So that’s why you’re telling all this,” I turned gloomy, “do you think that I want to leave the capital somewhere because I feel something like that?” And is it not a sign of this likely invasion? Is that why you've always given me so much time since childhood? It seems like a live indicator?

- Partly, - admitted the curator.

- Nothing like that, - I shook my head, - no stars, roads and other nonsense. I'm just fed up with guardianship.

- Sure? This is a very important question.

- Absolutely, - I snapped, - I'm bored, and I want to do something myself, to answer for something myself, you understand?

I'll ask one more question...

- Yes, let's already, - I sighed, - just quickly finish this, okay?

He clutched at his strand again, choosing his words.

- Sudden strong feelings for someone? Or emotional instability?

I looked at him the way my father looked at the groom Rico when he began to talk about politics: with bewilderment.

- Nothing like this. May I ask a counter question?

- Certainly.

A morning conversation with an inner voice came to my mind, giving another explanation for my desire to get involved in some kind of adventure.

- Have you seen my personal file?

He suddenly became alert. What did I ask wrong?

- Yes, it is in my cell in the Archive. What did you want?

- Do I have a positive Geller factor? Is there such a mark?

The curator blinked. And I suddenly felt an empathic wave of relief. What's wrong with him?

- Yes, I have.

- Therefore, the propensity for adventure?

- Combined with elven blood.

- And what does this threaten me in general?

- Many troubles, I'm afraid, if you let you out of supervision.

Why were you so worried when I asked?