そして再びそれは私の心です。

& ONCE AGAIN, IT'S MY HEART.

そして再びそれは私の心です。

& ONCE AGAIN, IT'S MY HEART.

そして再びそれは私の心です。

& ONCE AGAIN, IT'S MY HEART.

personality the problem with minjae isn’t that he’s cocky—it’s that he's cocky and has the skill to back it up. he's never lost a patient, never lost a bet, never lost a damn thing. he thrives in chaos, the kind of surgeon who laughs under pressure, who walks into a life-or-death situation and doesn’t hesitate. people say he’s reckless, but he’s not—he just knows he’s better. his humor is dry, sharp, just a little too quick, but every once in a while, it slips—something real, something softer, before he covers it up again. pretends he doesn’t care, but he does. just enough to make it dangerous.

background yoo minjae was never just a doctor—he was born to be one. his parents made sure of that. two of the most famous surgeons in the country, household names in the medical field, the kind of people who have wings named after them in hospitals. growing up, he wasn’t just expected to be good—he was expected to be the best. his parents weren’t in love. they just couldn’t stand anyone else. two prodigies, too brilliant, too detached, too intolerant of human flaws to deal with normal people. so they got married, had him, and continued their careers like it was just another procedure on the schedule. minjae wasn’t raised, he was trained. no siblings, no distractions, just pressure, ambition, and expectations that weighed more than any surgical textbook. he spent his childhood in operating rooms before he even knew how to ride a bike, shadowing surgeries before most kids even knew what a scalpel was. expectations weren’t just high, they were suffocating. teachers, mentors, fellow students—everyone assumed he had it easy. connections, money, a last name that carried weight. he hated it. the thought of anyone believing he got here because of them and not because of his own hands, his own skill, his own talent makes his blood boil. so he works harder, pushes further, takes the worst cases, the highest risks, and makes impossible saves. his surgical record is perfect, undefeated, unchallenged. and he makes sure it stays that way. he doesn’t just want to be good—he wants to be so undeniably brilliant that no one can say a damn thing about how he got here. he’ll be the best, not because he has to, but because he refuses to be anything less.

the truth minjae has always known something was wrong with him. not in the way that makes sense, not in the way that could be explained away with science or logic or any of the things he was raised to believe in. it wasn’t something you could diagnose, something you could cut open and study under a microscope. but it was there. always. he felt it in the way the world shifted around him, in the way hospital rooms got too quiet when he walked in, in the way patients who had no reason to know his name would reach for him with shaking hands. he felt it in the way nurses avoided his gaze when a code blue was called, like they already knew it wouldn’t matter. because when minjae stepped into a room, it was already decided. he never lost a patient. not one. they called it skill. talent. luck. but minjae knew better. he had spent his whole life pretending not to notice. ignoring the way the air felt heavier around certain people, like something unseen was pressing down on them, waiting. pretending he didn’t hear his name whispered by voices that didn’t belong to the living. pushing down the instinct to reach for hands that weren’t really there, to answer questions that had never been asked. it had always been there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the moment he would stop lying to himself. it came on a night like any other. late. the city humming faintly beyond the rain-slicked windows of his father’s penthouse. the storm rolling in thick and heavy, thunder rattling against glass. he had been sitting at the desk, flipping through a textbook he had read a hundred times before, trying to focus, trying to ignore the familiar weight pressing at the edge of his vision. and then the air shifted. not just the room. the world. he didn’t turn. didn’t have to. he could feel it—something standing behind him, something that had always been there, but never like this. never this close."you already know, don’t you?" the voice wasn’t loud, wasn’t sharp, but it still cut through the silence like a blade. minjae exhaled slowly. "no." a pause. something amused, something patient. "yes, you do." he finally turned his head. a man. standing by the window, where the city lights flickered dimly against the rain. tall. dark. silent in a way that wasn’t natural, in a way that wasn’t human. the shadows curled around him, stretched for him, bent toward him like he was the center of something minjae had spent his whole life pretending not to see. and he had seen him. in hospital hallways, in the reflection of surgery room windows, in the empty spaces between life and death. always just out of reach, always watching."who are you?" minjae’s voice was steady, but it didn’t feel like his own. the man didn’t answer. just looked at him like he had been waiting for this moment, like he already knew exactly how it would play out. "you’ve felt it your whole life, haven’t you?" the weight in his chest tightened. "you’ve seen it." his jaw locked. "you’ve known."and he had. he had known it since he was a child, since he sat in the back of hospital rooms watching people slip away with something too familiar in their eyes. he had known it in the way his mother never talked about his father, in the way she never looked at him like she was looking at just her son. he had known it in the way death had always followed him—not as a shadow, but as a presence.he had always known.his mother confirmed it later without hesitation, without concern, without anything."you weren’t supposed to find out.""but i did."she set down her pen. didn’t sigh, didn’t look guilty. just studied him the way she studied an x-ray before a complicated procedure."does it change anything?"minjae stared at her."no."a nod. an answer she had already known before she asked. she picked up her pen and kept writing.and that was it.no explanations. no reassurances. no closure.but minjae didn’t need it.minjae never asked again. never tried to understand. never let it change him. if something lingers behind him, if the air thickens when a heart starts to slow, if the same presence watches from the corners—he doesn’t acknowledge it. he is a surgeon. he saves lives. but the irony remains—he does not lose patients. not one. and in the quiet of the or, beneath the sterile white light, he feels it.death.watching.waiting.

aesthetic minjae looks like he belongs anywhere but a hospital—dark blue hair catching in the fluorescents, scrubs hanging off him just right, expensive watch on his wrist like it’s part of the uniform. he walks into the ER like he owns it, all sharp edges and quiet confidence, exhaustion hidden behind a smirk. his motorcycle helmet’s always somewhere nearby, tossed onto a chair or shoved under a desk. smells like coffee, antiseptic, and trouble, like he’s been up for 30 hours but still looks good doing it. his fingers know the weight of a scalpel all too well. he doesn’t try to stand out, but does anyway.

そして再びそれは私の心です。

& ONCE AGAIN, IT'S MY HEART.

そして再びそれは私の心です。

& ONCE AGAIN, IT'S MY HEART.

001.: obviously, i am not ji chang min from the boyz. i am also not affiliated with him or his group or her company! this muse is purely for entertainment purposes.002.: absolutely zero tolerance for out of character drama but i do love some in character spice, plotted or unplotted. if you're going to be butthurt by things, please do not interact.003.: mun is over twenty-one, minors please do not interact. this is just a hobby, so i'll be around when i have time.. i really need your patience for replies and since natsumi is a neurosurgeon, she's pretty busy too.004.: i'm okay with literate and illiterate replies. i prefer writing on twitter because it's just easier to have everything in one place. i'm not okay with godmodding and headcannons without discussion or permission.005.: btw! the lyrics on the first page are pink rolex by blackbear & this carrd does not belong to me but i do have permission to use it! x