The Savage Within

Chapter 6: Public Urination and Mania

News reports are full of strange cases of people whose bodies undergo abnormal changes: some grow hair all over, some develop fish-scale-like skin, some sprout tails from their tailbones, and some even display unusual abilities—like magnetism or generating static electricity.

If Ethan’s eye transformation were ever exposed, he could already imagine what would happen: he’d quickly become the focus of public attention, swarmed by scholars and research institutions eager to study his body.

At that point, he would lose all privacy, living under constant scrutiny like a celebrity, every move dissected by the world.

Ethan didn’t like that kind of life, though he thought he might barely be able to tolerate it.

But there was one fatal problem—he could lose control, becoming dangerously aggressive. Poor Lucky was already the most direct proof.

If the issue of his violent outbursts were ever revealed, then he wouldn’t just be an object of study—he’d be seen as a public threat. He would certainly be monitored under strict control, robbed of his freedom.

Ethan had no desire to live that kind of caged life.

But what was done was done. His eyes had already changed.

He thought about wearing sunglasses or colored contact lenses to cover them up, but both options felt inconvenient, and too easily exposed.

Near midnight, Ethan could hear his neighbor Yen Qiaorong finishing her live stream and heading into the shower (the sound of running water was clear). Upstairs, his landlord and the couple across the hall were already asleep.

The streets outside were silent, broken only by the occasional sound of footsteps.

Ethan wracked his brain for solutions but came up with nothing. Finally, he drifted off to sleep.

…

At four in the morning, Ethan woke naturally.

He glanced out the window—it was pitch dark. He tried to fall back asleep, but after lying there a moment, something strange overcame him. Like he was possessed, he rose from bed barefoot, walked to the end of the bed, and suddenly began to urinate.

It wasn’t until his left leg lifted awkwardly and the stream hit his right thigh that he jolted awake with a shiver.

“s**t! Why am I pissing here?”

Eyes wide, his bladder instantly tightened up.

“What the hell is going on with me?”

Cursing under his breath, he turned on the lights, flung open the curtains for air, and grabbed a mop to clean the floor repeatedly until the urine was gone.

Then he washed his feet in the bathroom, planning to go back to bed—only to freeze in place.

“Wait. My night vision—it’s gone. My hearing and smell feel normal too.”

Rushing to the mirror, he saw his eyes had returned to normal human form.

“What’s happening?”

He turned off all the lights to check again. Still normal.

“Don’t tell me my abilities are gone?”

Losing night vision wasn’t a problem—if anything, it meant he could walk around without worry of being exposed. But losing his enhanced hearing and regenerative ability? That would be devastating.

Enhanced hearing alone was insanely useful—imagine being able to catch conversations from far away. And regeneration? That was priceless—no more worrying about illness or injury.

At that moment, he completely forgot about the bed-wetting episode.

Grabbing a fruit knife, Ethan hesitated briefly, then pricked his left middle finger. He’d done it enough times by now that he hardly flinched.

After 1 minute and 36 seconds, the wound had fully healed without a trace.

Relieved, he muttered, “So regeneration is still here. Why are the other senses gone?”

Focusing his attention, he tested his hearing. Suddenly, it was as if a volume knob had been turned up in his ears—the trickle of water still draining from the bathroom floor was crystal clear now.

Pressing his ear against Yen Qiaorong’s wall, he could even make out the steady rhythm of her breathing.

When he tried sniffing the air, his hearing faded and his sense of smell surged forward: ammonia from the urine, lingering stench, toothpaste, and body wash fragrances—all sharp and distinct.

So the abilities were still there, but he had to concentrate to switch between them, and couldn’t run two at once.

He turned off the lights and focused on his vision again. In the mirror, his irises shifted from brown to amber, ink-like rings spreading until even the whites of his eyes were consumed, while his pupils dilated to nearly twice their normal size.

His night vision kicked in, though the world appeared in washed-out grays, fuzzier than before.

Glancing outside, he understood—his night vision worked by enhancing the eye’s ability to absorb light. But with the moon gone and the world pitch-dark, there simply wasn’t enough light to amplify.

Satisfied that his abilities hadn’t disappeared, Ethan relaxed. The worry about his eyes had lifted.

Checking the clock, it was just past 4:20 a.m. He decided to nap until morning, then head to a different hospital to test if the bone cancer had really vanished—and maybe learn what had caused his mutation, or if there were further dangers to come.

But his relief made him too excited to sleep. Tossing and turning, he felt restless, his nerves burning.

He felt like a caged husky with pent-up energy, desperate to shred his sheets and pillows.

The more he tried to hold it back, the stronger it became. Soon, he wanted to jump up and smash everything in sight.

“This isn’t right… if I keep bottling this up, I’ll go insane.”

Unable to lie still, Ethan began pacing. That helped, but only slightly. Finally, he dropped to the floor for push-ups.

In school, he could manage forty in a row. By the time he joined the workforce, he was down to fifteen at best.

Now, to his shock, he knocked out fifty straight before exhaustion hit.

Panting on the floor, he realized the exercise helped—until his body recovered after a short rest, and the agitation came roaring back.

So he hit the ground again. Another fifty.

And again.

By the third set, he was drenched in sweat, but the manic energy refused to fade. Panic crept in.

“If this never stops, I’ll lose my mind.”

He cursed under his breath. “Figures. No free lunches in this world. Sure, I’ve gained powers, but if this madness stays, I’d rather be dead.”

At that moment, he truly wished to go back to being normal, with all his old flaws—chronic pharyngitis, oily skin, blackheads—anything was better than this.

By the time dawn broke at 5:38 a.m., Ethan had done three hundred push-ups. His body was trembling, his nerves fried.

And then, finally—the mania lifted.

Golden sunlight spilled across the floor, washing over him as he collapsed in relief, gasping for air, drenched in sweat.

If not for his regenerative stamina, his arms might’ve snapped under the strain.

Leaning against the bedframe, Ethan watched the sunrise. It felt like surviving a disaster.

For a moment there, he’d truly believed he would be trapped in endless mania, until he cracked completely.

Even now, with calm restored, dread lingered.

What if this happens again—say, in the middle of a meeting with a difficult client? What if he snapped, slapped them across the face out of nowhere?

His career would be over. His reputation ruined. Maybe even labeled insane.

“This mania… is it connected to the mutation? Is it a sign of losing control?”

The thought sent a chill through him.

After all, just two nights ago, he had killed Lucky in a fit of monstrous rage.

If he lost control again—and this time hurt his landlord or neighbors—he’d be finished.