Ah, That Guy's a Quack After All.
“Q-Quack? Mind your manners!”
“Beauty Tower Master! That's too harsh—show some restraint!”
“What kind of blasphemy is that at a sacred conference?”
The mages gathered in the grand plaza erupted at my words, delivered at a perfectly pitched volume—not too loud, not too soft. Of course, as the saying goes, appearances are everything in science; they all looked like they'd aged gracefully through some anal retention of wisdom. I could say that with confidence because not a single one of the bastards now nitpicking my attitude had ever visited my clinic during the exhibition.
“Heh heh, a quack, you say? So, Beauty Tower Master, are you implying that paternity tests are somehow superior to vasectomies?”
Servius's ploy was predictable. He was lumping paternity tests—genetic analysis—with vasectomies on the same level, trying to drag me down any way he could. But equating the two was pure comedy to begin with.
“Haha, sorry about that. Just talking to myself—must've been louder than I thought. You all seem spry enough to hear it fine.”
“Heh... such arrogance.”
“No mana, and yet so rude and presumptuous.”
The mages clearly aligned with Servius showered me with scorn, but I pressed on undeterred, my voice clear and steady.
“I called you a quack, Servius, because you're not explaining the risks of the procedure. Maybe you don't know, but castrating the testes leads to side effects where symbols of masculinity vanish. For example—”
“Of course I know. Beards stop growing, muscles don't bulk up as much. But Gold Tower Master, you seem ignorant of basic facts—it's not a side effect; it's called rejuvenation.”
“Rejuvenation? In this world? Does that even make sense?”
Servius smirked at the shout from the crowd.
“It's a fact from over 1,000 studies and surgeries. Think about it logically. Testes produce sperm, but without them, the body stops wasting effort on that and redirects all that energy inward for self-preservation.”
“Ooh, that sounds plausible.”
“I want one right now!”
“Heh heh, even cold water has its limits. Don't you have just one kid? Hold off a bit, haha!”
The Wind Tower Master, Servius, spouted utter nonsense with the confidence of someone who'd truly performed over 1,000 castrations.
Is this how Steinach's spiel started...?
In 1920, Austrian physiologist Eugen Steinach hypothesized that tying off the vas deferens would trap sperm-dependent sex hormones inside, leading him to invent the “rejuvenation surgery” or “Steinach operation.” He claimed it didn't just reverse aging—it cured constipation, boosted appetite, reduced white hair dramatically, and made the mind vibrantly cheerful.
Of course, it was a national scam.
Steinach was still better than Servius, though. He hadn't outright removed the testes.
“Heh heh, so? It prevents reproduction reliably and offers rejuvenation. Still think paternity tests are better?”
I was about to argue that vasectomies and paternity tests belonged on entirely different planes when he cut me off with that drivel.
“No, Servius. What you're describing isn't a vasectomy—it's just castration.”
“What?! That's going too far! Castration?!”
If they couldn't grasp it after explanation, time for rote education. A bone-crushing lesson.
“To reiterate the side effects: it's not just beardlessness or muscle loss. Full testicle removal can cause libido drop and erectile dysfunction. With 1,000 studies and surgeries under your belt, you must know this—why omit it?”
“Wh-What...? If that's true, it's a death sentence!”
“Isn't that way too risky?”
The mostly male mages bristled at “erectile dysfunction.”
“Hm, rare cases happened, I'll admit. But not everyone. Besides, Beauty Tower Master, you're hearing about vasectomies for the first time today—how can you state it as fact?”
“First time? We do them at Beauty Tower. Real ones, not your fake knockoffs.”
“Wait, how many kinds of surgery does Beauty Tower even do?”
“Fake versus real? What does that mean?”
My blunt words ignited the crowd, and Servius's face heated like overripe watermelon pulp.
“Sorry, first conference here—I didn't realize it was about backward procedures like this.”
“Backward? My surgeries are fake? Do you even know what you're saying?”
Servius flushed crimson-purple, but I smiled and nodded.
“Of course. To explain proper vasectomy, I need to cover testicular anatomy first.”
Human fascination with genitals was timeless. Eyes gleaming, they whipped out crystal orbs, scribbled notes, or filmed me—proof this world was no different.
“My vasectomies take just 10 minutes. Yes, longer than Wind Tower's, maybe. But mine don't remove the testes.”
“Surgery... without incision?”
“Impossible in theory.”
“Explain the process!”
Questions flew; I raised a hand for calm.
“Step by step. Most mages—or doctors—have dissected one, so you know the look. Anatomically...”
Some nodded knowingly; others scribbled in awe at the novelty.
“So why cut the vas? You were on the right track, Servius—sever it, no pregnancy. But you lacked precision for just the vas.”
Servius reddened; I'd hit the mark.
A mage shot up his hand.
“So Beauty Tower Master, you can isolate and cut just the vas?”
“Yes.”
“How do you find that thin tube?”
“Simple: palpate to distinguish vessels and fascia, anesthetize, use specialized tools to extract the vas precisely from the scrotum.”
“Such tools exist?”
The questioner's eyes bulged. He'd handled one before.
“Yes, sold separately at Beauty Tower—soon at Truth Tower in Helle Gar Territory too. Capital tower masters, check there.”
“Truth Tower? That's Mac.”
“I know him well.”
“If Truth Tower sells it, it's legit.”
Doctor networks ruled here like back home. Silent thanks to Mac as I continued. The Servius smackdown wasn't over.
“Anyway, vasectomy's not hard. Anesthetize, cut, tie—done. Destroy the road, no carts or people pass, right?”
“Hm... makes sense.”
“Aesthetically, something's better than nothing.”
“Yeah, can't give up this fine mustache—took years to grow and groom!”
These weren't average isekai folk but mages—better grasp of basic medicine than commoners. The mood shifted: my method outclassed Servius's.
“Haha, variety's good, right? Rejuvenation seekers to Wind Tower; those wanting original looks preserved to Beauty Tower.”
Then a man with seagull-wing mustaches climbed the podium, bellowing. Servius relaxed and stepped down—clearly allies.
Gonna stir the pot to the end? Time to uproot the rot.
Who knew when mages would gather like this again? Strike now.
“Wait... that guy!”
Rebecca, who'd watched silently, trembled with rage.
“You know him?”
“That's the bastard! My old tower master—the one who exiled me.”
Rebecca's rare fury marked him no ordinary foe. Explained the Servius alliance.
“Knowing many presenters today, I risk rudeness mounting the podium. Exploration Tower Master, Owen, for the second speech.”