The Savage Within

Chapter 19: Never Be a Simp

For now, Ethan wasn’t interested in figuring out what exactly happened with those missing pets. What mattered was how to safely get through the night when he might lose control again.

He was about to take advantage of the early hour, while the streets were still quiet, to patrol his “territory” when a news notification popped up.

[Elephant-Pig Beast — A Mutated Wild Boar Appears in a Southwestern Province!]

The title alone caught his attention—it was clearly about mutated creatures. He tapped it immediately.

The article reported that a woman in Y Province went up the mountain to pick mushrooms and encountered a strange animal, dubbed the “Elephant-Pig Beast.” She quickly pulled out her phone to snap a picture, but the flash enraged the creature. It rammed her, breaking several ribs, nearly killing her. But at least she got the photo.

The photo embedded in the report showed a bizarre-looking beast. Judging by its size, it probably weighed no more than 160 pounds. Its body, markings, and limbs were identical to a wild boar’s, except for a long trunk-like nose and two thick, curved tusks.

After the story broke, staff from the local animal protection bureau and several experts searched the surrounding mountains. But apart from normal wild boars, no trace of this so-called mutant was found.

The report sounded strange, but the photo seemed fairly authentic. And since Ethan himself had mutated, he couldn’t dismiss the possibility.

He opened the comments section to see the reactions. Almost all were skeptical. A few highly upvoted replies read:

[So fake. I heard they’re developing a new tourist spot in that area. This is just hype. If it’s real, why can’t they find it? Show us the beast before you post nonsense.]

[Come on, at least be creative. You just slapped an elephant’s trunk on a boar and called it a new species? Do you think we’re idiots?]

[The editor’s basically writing a sci-fi novel. Why not publish on a fiction site instead of pretending it’s news?]

Reading those, Ethan also began to doubt. But then again—fake or not—he himself was living proof mutations were real. If he could mutate, there could easily be others.

He scrolled back up to the article. To boost credibility, the author had added a “scientific explanation.”

It went like this: all organisms share common ancestors and evolved over time, with countless genes linking them together. Humans and chimpanzees share 96% genetic similarity, humans and domestic cats 90%, humans and mice 85%, humans and fruit flies 61%, even humans and bananas 60%.

Only about 2% of human genes actually encode proteins—the rest are so-called “junk genes.” Many traits humans no longer use—like tails, tusks, or thick body hair—are dormant in these unused sections. They don’t disappear; they just remain silent.

The article speculated that the mutated boar may have accidentally activated dormant elephant genes responsible for trunk growth, explaining its bizarre appearance.

Ethan couldn’t help but think: So in my case… did I accidentally activate dormant wolf genes, becoming a werewolf?

Whether the science was sound or not, it felt oddly plausible.

But he had another puzzle: why did he only transform when losing control? Why not all the time?

That was why he needed to patrol his territory again. Last time, a stray dog urinating on his marked spot had almost triggered a transformation even while he was fully conscious. If he could experience that state again, maybe he could figure out the connection between losing control and his transformations.

He left his apartment and checked the nearest marking point.

Two days had passed, and the scent had faded to nearly nothing. A normal human wouldn’t smell a thing, even with their nose pressed to the ground. But Ethan could sense it without even focusing his enhanced smell—just by concentrating, he could feel where it was.

Even more shocking, when he focused harder, he could sense all his other marking points too. The ones further away felt faint, but they were still there.

The sensation was strange, like someone hovering a needle near your skin—you could feel it, even with your eyes closed.

He realized this sense wasn’t tied to his hearing range, as he had guessed before. It was something else entirely.

Then he tried stepping outside his territory. Sure enough, the sensation faded the further he walked.

So it only works inside my marked range. If I expand my territory, will this perception also expand?

He couldn’t test it yet—he only had the urge to mark after losing control.

After finishing his patrol, with no strays intruding this time, Ethan headed to the market for breakfast before work.

But with his heightened senses, it wasn’t pleasant. The stench of sewage, people’s bad breath, farts, body odor, even women’s ovulation pheromones—all assaulted him nonstop. Luckily his feeding urge was stronger than his s****l drive, so it was tolerable.

At the office, perfume mixed with breakfast aromas filled the air. Several female coworkers were in their fertile phase, but Ethan deliberately avoided using his enhanced hearing, worried he’d overhear something that would trigger unwanted urges.

Today, Feifei Tong arrived almost late, slipping in just before the clock. She didn’t look at Ethan once, walking straight to her desk with a blank expression.

Her coldness felt strange, but Ethan forced himself to adapt. He prided himself on self-control.

Feifei, however, struggled more. Following her friend May Ma’s advice, she was supposed to ignore Ethan completely for two days, making him miss her. But the more she tried not to look, the more she wanted to. She nearly cracked in less than two hours.

He doesn’t look happy. Is it because of me? Am I being too cruel? What if he really gets mad and never talks to me again?

She caved. Forgetting all of May’s warnings, she sent him a message:

“Sorry, Master 😢”

Too young—she couldn’t hold her ground.

Ethan, checking blueprints, was pleasantly surprised by the message. He wanted to ask where she’d gone yesterday, if she was mad at him, maybe even apologize. But he held back.

“Why say sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have lost my temper yesterday.”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

His lukewarm reply was like a bucket of cold water over her head, reminding her of May’s advice. Feifei instantly felt both angry at herself and frustrated.

Then his next message turned everything around:

“Where’d you go yesterday afternoon? I saw your social media post—did you take the day off?”

Last night’s post—two elegant dishes with the caption “Thanks for keeping me company, tonight was wonderful”—was actually written by May. But Ethan didn’t know that.

Still, the fact he asked proved he cared.

Feifei’s heart melted. May was right: if he asked, it meant he valued her.

“Yeah, I took the afternoon off. Went to the café you used to take me to, with my best friend.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Mhm 😊”

Someone who constantly sends cute emojis like that definitely likes you a lot.

But Ethan wasn’t inexperienced. If someone wasn’t already interested, acting overly cutesy could come across as desperate—like a simp. And simps never get respect.

At least now he knew she hadn’t been with another man. That eased his mind. Still, his rational side warned him to keep his distance.

So he didn’t reply further and returned to his work.

Two minutes later, Feifei, restless again, messaged:

“Master, what are you doing?”

“Checking floor plans. Need to design renderings later.”

“Oh!”

“If you’re free, practice drawing layouts for the new apartment project.”

“……”