𝑁𝐸𝑈𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤

____

*“…things were different back then. You were either a prize, the strongest, a fool, or…an eunuch...”*

The clock on the lecture hall wall had not ticked for seven minutes. *Luz Akami* was certain of this…

She had counted the silent, sluggish beats of her own heart instead, each one a dull thud of frustration in her chest. Professor Evans droned on about old Roman empires and their barbaric ways of gaining power, his voice a dry monotone that sucked the very oxygen from the air.

But Luz’s boredom was a focused thing, a sharpened blade she turned not on the material *(she’d read ahead. She always did)* but on the world outside the window.

*Of course he’s skipping. Principles of Ethics. Give me a break…*

Her gaze was locked on the scene below. There, on the manicured lawn behind the business school, were Nathan Prescott and Courtney Blanchard. They were a cliché come to life. A walking, groping advertisement for everything Luz despised.

Nathan, with his carefully disheveled black hair and that insufferable, confident slouch, had his back to the building. Courtney, all blonde highlights and designer athletic gear, was giggling at something he’d said, her head thrown back in a performance of delight.

Luz’s fingers tightened around her pen. *He broke up with you for that? A tits for brain girl who thinks Nietzsche is a new brand of watch? You were a plan, a stepping stone to success. And she’s the destination. A vapid, pointless, destination.*

She was not jealous. The very notion was an *insult.*

What she felt was a clean, cold fury. The kind a prosecutor must feel when a guilty man smirks his way out of a courtroom. It was the fury of a system failing, of injustice being rewarded with a kiss. Nathan had used her, lied to her, and was now getting away with it, scot-free.

His new biggest concern now? Which part of Courtney’s perfect jawline to nibble on next. She wanted to kick his balls right into his throat for having the *nerve* to glance up, *knowing* she’s watching.

“That jerk…” she clenched her white teeth.

*Help clean up the world,* Luz thought, the mantra that had gotten her through every all-nighter, every tedious seminar. *Start right there. With the little tyrants who think their charm is a get-out-of-jail-free card…*

A flicker of motion in the periphery of her vision, high above the tangled couple, caught her attention. Something was falling…

*A leaf? No, that’s too heavy. Not a bird either…*

It was a dark slash against the pale blue sky, tumbling end over end in a silent, gravity-driven ballet.

*What is that?*

Her mind, a trap for details, instantly began its work. Dimensions, trajectory, velocity. It was roughly A5 size, with a cover of a deep, bruised maroon. It fell behind a thick cluster of hydrangea bushes, vanishing without a sound.

The dismissal bell rang, a shrill electric scream that shattered the stillness. Chairs scraped, backpacks zipped, and the herd of students began its exodus. Luz didn’t move. She remained at her desk, a statue amidst the chaos, her eyes fixed on the spot where the object had disappeared.

*It’s probably nothing….just a dropped notebook or something. Some art student’s failed project.*

But the timing. The strange, silent fall from a clear sky. It felt…significant. And Luz, whose entire life was built on the foundation of figuring things out, could not let an anomaly lie.

With a calm she did not entirely feel, Luz’s leather satchel was slung over her shoulder as she moved against the tide of students flowing back towards the dorms, heading instead for the side door that led to the quad. Her long and thick, brown hair, with its severe, face-framing bangs, swung with the purpose of her stride.

At 5’ 7 her perky c-cup breast and bubbly butt stood out on her toned frame, built from years of soccer and tennis. It was easy cutting through the crowd but a few guys gave her ass a second too long of a look and it took everything to not punt them right in their nuts.

*They’re not worth the energy.*

The air outside was a little windy but she ignored the chills and curious glances from a few classmates, her light brown eyes narrowed in focus. She walked to the hydrangea bushes, their large, pom-pom flowers a cheerful pink that felt obscenely out of place.

*This is ridiculous. What are you even doing? It’s literally going to be nothing…*

But the compulsion was too strong. She pushed aside a branch, the leaves cool and waxy against her skin, and peered into the shaded space beneath.

And there it was.

Lying face-up on a bed of damp mulch and fallen petals, as if it had been placed there, not fallen. The maroon cover was a shade darker than she’d thought—the color of old blood or dried wine. It was utterly unadorned, save for two words embossed on the front in a faint, silvery-grey script that seemed to pulse faintly, like a dormant nerve.

𝑁𝐸𝑈𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑁𝑂𝑇𝐸

Her breath hitched, *What is this? A prank?* It had to be. Some elaborate, bizarre joke aimed at her?

*But no one knew I would be watching...not even Nathan’s dumbass. That was by chance. But this? No one could have orchestrated that fall.*

Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, alive feeling that was a world away from the bored thudding of minutes before. She crouched down, her caramel-tan skin looking pale in the shadow of the bushes. With a hesitant hand, she reached out and picked it up.

— - —

Inside her single room—immaculate, organized, a sanctuary of control—she finally let out the breath she’d been holding. She dropped her satchel on the floor and placed the maroon notebook on her clean, white desk.

It seemed to suck the breath from her lungs.

Sitting down, she ran her fingers over the title. Neuter Note. The words felt raised, not like ink, but like slender, fossilized worms under her fingertips.

*Open it.*

Her internal voice was a whisper, equal parts dread and irresistible curiosity. This was a puzzle. A mystery. And she was the one built to solve it.

She opened the cover.

The pages were not white, but a pale, creamy parchment. On the first page, in that same spidery, organic script as the cover, were rules that made Luz’s *tight pussy warm up.*

1. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙏𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙨' 𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙈𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨.

Luz stared at the words. The script seemed to pulse faintly, as though breathing. Her mind raced. *Testicles? Final moments?*

This wasn't just bizarre. It was grotesque. Yet the chill crawling up her spine felt terrifyingly real. She kept reading, feeling her breath shiver in *excitement?*

Rule 2 glared back at her: 𝙄𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙙𝙤𝙚𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙏𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙉𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙧.

The phrasing was clinical and detached.

*Given? Like, mentally or…* Luz's stomach twisted.

The implication was horrifyingly clear: this thing didn't discriminate. It would somehow manufacture the anatomy required to inflict it’s testicular punishment. A cold sweat pricked her forehead.

3. 𝙄𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙉𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙨 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 40 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣'𝙨 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚, 𝙞𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣.

4. 𝙄𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙉𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙙, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝙗𝙚 𝙉𝙚𝙪𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙏𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙧 𝙏𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

5. 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙚𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩 𝙪𝙣𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣'𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙞𝙨/𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚. 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚, 𝙥𝙚𝙤𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙.

Luz read on, her eyes widening with each line. Her mind, her brilliant, logical, prosecutor’s mind, raced through the implications. The terrifying, world-altering possibilities. It’s *dark magic* and yet…she believes it. The fall from the sky. The feel of the cover. The absolute, chilling certainty of the words.

Her gaze drifted from the page to a small, framed photo on her desk. It was a picture of her and Nathan from a month ago, both of them smiling.

His smile, she now saw, never reached his eyes.

The clean, cold fury returned, crystallizing into a single, sharp point of intention.

She pulled a pen from her desk drawer—a fine-point, black rollerball. Her hand was steady. Absolutely steady.

*This is not justice,* a small, rational part of her whispered. *This is vengeance.*

*No, It’s a test,* another part, the part that had just read the impossible, countered. *A field test. For justice.*

She pictured Nathan’s face. That smug, handsome face, laughing as he walked away from her. She pictured it with perfect, painful clarity.

Then, in a hand as neat and precise as her lecture notes, she began to write in the pristine, terrifying book.

*Nathan Prescott…*

She paused, the tip of the pen hovering over the space for the sensation. A small, cruel smile touched her lips. *Something humiliating. Something that would perfectly disrupt his perfect good boy image.*

She finished the entry.

*Nathan Prescott: Kicked from behind so hard his testicles explode, launching him into a front flip.*

Luz stared at the words, the ink sinking into the creamy parchment like poison. A harsh, brittle laugh escaped her lips. "This is so stupid," she muttered, shaking her head. Her fingers tapped impatiently on the desk.

"A magic notebook? Dropped from the sky? Seriously?" She leaned back in her chair, the leather creaking. "Nathan deserves worse than this... *childish fantasy.*"

The room was silent. The clock on her nightstand ticked, a sound she usually found comforting. Now, it felt like a countdown.

Nothing happened.

“Ugh. Of course, nothing happened.”

*It’s a gag. A stupid, elaborate—*

A chime from her phone made her jump. A message in the campus gossip group chat. It was a video of Nathan?!

“No way…” With a trembling finger, she pressed play.

It was Nathan, on the main pathway. He was trying to put his arm around Courtney, and in the middle of the motion, his body suddenly jerked violently forward.

*“Auiiii!!!”* His legs shot out from under him in a bizarre, unnatural arc. The camera shuddered as someone gasped off-screen.

Luz leaned closer, her knuckles white around the phone. There was a lot of mummering and sounds, but she could see Nathan’s blurry face stretched wide in a girly scream as he flipped head over heels. His legs splayed wildly, and he landed hard on his back.

*“Oh my god Nathan?! What happened?”* Courtney stumbled backward, hands flying to her mouth.

Then, emerging from the crowd of gawking students like a vengeful shadow, came *her*. Serena Hill—Nathan’s ex before Luz. All sharp cheekbones, smudged eyeliner, and a waterfalls of ink-black hair. She wore heavy steel-toed boots, the kind Luz had seen her stomp through punk shows in.

“She just kicked his balls with those…” Luz noted, her pupils shrinking as she looks at the photo of them on her desk. Then to the notebook.

*I used to drain those exact same balls after every football game. And now…*

Serena planted one boot firmly on Nathan’s heaving chest, pinning him. Her lips curled into a feral grin as she leaned down, her voice a venomous purr that cut through the stunned silence and coming out of Luz’s phone speakers.

*"Been holding that one in for the *right* moment. Hope you said goodbye to your balls today, pretty boy."*

Serena’s boot pushed down, eliciting a wet, choking gasp from Nathan. His face contorted into a mask of pure agony, eyes bulging as his hands instinctively clawed at the bulge where his testicles should have been.

A high-pitched, ragged scream tore from his throat—thin and utterly shattered—unlike anything Luz had ever heard from him.

*"THEY'RE BROKEN! SHE BROKE THEM!"* he shrieked, the sound raw and primal, echoing off the surrounding buildings before dissolving into frantic, shallow sobs.

*I just neutered Nathan…didn’t I?*

His body convulsed under Serena's boot, legs kicking weakly against the pavement like a dying insect.

Courtney surged forward, her designer sneakers skidding on the concrete. Her perfect facade cracked wide open, revealing sheer, panicked horror.

*"NO!"* she screamed, voice cracking into a shrill falsetto. She shoved Serena’s shoulder with manicured hands, her eyes wild and desperate.

*"They better NOT be broken, you psycho! Do you know how much he NEEDS them?!"* Her gaze darted frantically between Nathan’s writhing form and Serena’s icy smirk, her voice climbing hysterically.

*"He promised me—he PROMISED I could—!”*

The video cut abruptly. It was only eleven seconds. So she replayed it *six* more times before looking back at her ultimate weapon.

The hollow feeling of boredom was gone. In its place was a new sensation, cold and electric and utterly addictive.

It was power. And it was all hers now…A dark grin forms on Luz’s face.

*“…It’s real. That means…I can Neuter anyone I want. I can make a world where there’s No More Useless Testicles.”*