# data[].attributes.body
Past.

# data[].attributes.body
Fears:

Remembering. The biggest one. Subconsciously, Myungho fears unlocking his past—because he knows that if he remembers, he’ll have to face everything he lost.

Losing control. He’s terrified of what he might become if he lashes out. There's old magic in him that even he doesn’t understand.

Outliving everyone again. Every connection feels temporary. Every friend, every child he helps. And the loneliness builds every time.

Blood spells. They bring flashes of something ancient and traumatic. He freezes. He knows they’re dangerous—even if he doesn’t know why.

Getting too close. Forming bonds—especially romantic or familial—is hard. He gives affection freely to children but keeps adults at arm’s length.

# data[].attributes.body
Guilty Pleasure:

Sweet puddings and soft desserts. Flan, custards, panna cotta—smooth textures and gentle flavors soothe him like a balm.

Old vinyl records. Jazz, classical, anything smooth and low. He sits in the dark and just listens.

Petting other cats. Strays come to him instinctively. He feeds them, brushes them, whispers to them like old friends.

Low-budget fantasy films. He critiques the “magic systems” quietly, sometimes muttering, “That’s not how protection wards work…”

Collecting soft things. Blankets, scarves, plushies—especially cat-shaped ones. He keeps them in a hidden drawer.

# data[].attributes.body
Quirks:

He taps things with his claws when anxious. A fingertip, the edge of a clipboard, a table. A soft tik tik tik that gives him away.

His ears twitch at lies. He doesn’t always call it out, but when someone lies nearby, one ear will flick. His body still reacts before his mind does.

He catnaps. Myungho doesn’t sleep for long stretches—he naps throughout the day, curled up somewhere warm, like a sunlit corner or beneath a desk.

He stares at fish tanks like he's in a trance. It’s the closest thing to watching the Nile he can get now.

He keeps his hands meticulously clean. Not just for work—it's almost ritualistic. Like he’s trying to wash something away that he doesn’t fully understand.

He flips through children’s picture books in the break room. He says it’s for "professional reasons." It’s not.

# data[].attributes.body
No, never, no:

# data[].attributes.body
prompts.

“You don’t remember me… but I remember you.”

“My kid won’t stop drawing you with a halo. What exactly are you?”

“You flinched when I touched you. Are you okay?”

“You blessed my child. I thought that was just a story.”

“You purred in your sleep. Don’t deny it.”

“There’s something ancient in your eyes. I can feel it when you look at me.”

“I heard you whisper a name in your sleep. Was it mine?”

“You healed me with your hands… but your hands were shaking.”

“I found an old statue in Cairo. It looks exactly like you.”

“You always stare at me like you’re trying to remember something…”

“My pet cat won’t stop following you. Now she sleeps outside your door.”

# data[].attributes.body
established.

former master/mistress.

# data[].attributes.body
available.

# data[].attributes.body
Feline's Visual: Child of Bast

# data[].attributes.body
Visuals:

# data[].attributes.body
Faceclaim: ENHYPEN's Jay.

FC's birthday: 20 April 2002.

OC Name: Park Myungho.

OC Race: Immortals.

OC Subspecies: Child of Bast.

OC Occupation: Pediatrician at Augustine-Rotché Medical Institute.

OC Birthday (Human Figure): 20 April.

OC Height (Human Figure): 180 cm.

M/S Status: Slave.

Romantic Orientation: Demiromantic (Bi).

Sexual Orientation: Demisexual (Bi).

# data[].attributes.body
trigger warnings (to be added).

memory loss, angst, self-discovery journey;

possible: psychological, manipulation, emotional manipulation, narcissistic behavior, exploitation, etc.

# data[].attributes.body
This portrayal is exclusively for the sole purpose of role-playing at NightWorldKRP.

The typist has no connection or affiliation with ENHYPEN, the real Park Jongseong (Jay), HYBE, BE:LIFT.

# data[].attributes.body
Willing to Explore:

# data[].attributes.body
Yes:

# data[].attributes.body
Dislikes:

Sudden Loud Noises – Sirens, slamming doors, shouting. They jar his senses and trigger a primal discomfort.

Snakes – An instinctual, deep-rooted fear—snakes were always symbols of danger and betrayal in his past.

Blood-Magic or Curses – Even if forgotten, his body reacts. His skin prickles; his breath shortens. He knows it's wrong.

Being Touched Without Consent – Especially from strangers or his master. It brings a quiet but sharp recoil—his body remembers what his mind has forgotten.

Being Rushed or Pressured – He works best with grace and calm. Urgency makes him anxious, even if he hides it well.

Advanced Medical Tech – While he uses it professionally, he mistrusts the cold sterility of it. His intuition resists what feels inhuman.

Clocks Ticking Loudly – Time reminds him of what he’s lost. Of how long he’s been waiting.

# data[].attributes.body
Likes:

Children's Laughter – Even if he doesn’t remember why, the sound brings him peace. It reminds him of something sacred.

Herbal Teas & Natural Remedies – He prefers healing that feels alive. Ancient knowledge still flows in his hands, and he gravitates toward what the earth provides.

Silence & Solitude – After lifetimes of noise and heartbreak, Myungho treasures quiet. It soothes the ache he doesn’t know he carries.

Candlelight – A remnant of temple halls lit by fire. He finds the flicker comforting.

Soft Textures – Knitted sweaters, velvet throws, plush blankets. He’s cat-like in his love for comfort and warmth.

Being Groomed or Stroked – He’d never ask for it, but with those he trusts, he instinctively leans into touch. Praise and gentle affection make him purr.

Ancient Languages – Scripts he doesn’t understand... but feels familiar. He collects texts without knowing why.

Sunlight Through Windows – Lying in sunspots, even as a human, is a little indulgence he still allows himself.

# data[].attributes.body
Present.

To the world, he is a peculiar but brilliant man.

In this life, he is a soft-spoken pediatrician with a strange presence about him. He is lean, graceful, and always composed, walking with the ease of someone who was never meant to stumble. He often wears gloves indoors and outdoors. His feline ears remain hidden beneath a soft knit hat, his tail tucked neatly beneath his coat, and no one dares to ask why he never removes them.

To the children, he is magic.

No one knows why every child he treats begins to recover faster. No one knows why his soft voice eases panic attacks, or how colicky newborns fall asleep in his arms within seconds. He doesn’t speak of it. He doesn’t boast. He simply smiles, places a hand over their hearts, and whispers something in a language no one recognizes. His pair of feline ears and his fluffy long tail would be evident in the eyes of the children at times deemed necessary.

But he doesn't know why he does it either.

Myungho doesn’t remember where he came from. He doesn’t know why the sight of golden jewelry makes his chest ache, or why the sound of ancient flutes sometimes brings tears to his eyes. His dreams are filled with sand, stars, and the echoes of laughter from children who no longer exist. But when he wakes, the faces are always gone.

There are only fragments. A temple bathed in sunset light. A warm weight curled in his lap. A crown. A child. A fall.

And then—nothing.

Centuries ago, shattered by a grief no immortal was meant to carry, Myungho made a choice. Standing beneath a sky without stars, on a night so quiet it could split the soul, he whispered a final prayer to his fading mother:

“Bast... if I can no longer protect them…
If I am no longer needed…
Then let me forget.
Let me be free from this pain.”

And Bast, weakened and fading from the world herself, answered.

She took from him his memories—not to punish him, but to spare him. She left behind his instincts, his gifts, his love for children… but not the faces of the Pharaohs he’d once loved. Not the names of those he’d guarded. Not the memories of the lives he couldn’t save.

Now, Myungho Park lives quietly as a slave in someone else’s hospital. His immortality is a secret even to himself. He works diligently. Keeps to himself. And every so often, in the hush of a child's heartbeat, something stirs in him. A name that doesn’t belong to him. A vision of gold against dark skin. A whisper of a goddess’s voice, long forgotten.

He is not searching for the truth. But the truth is beginning to find him.

One day, he will remember.

And when he does... the world may finally remember him, too.