The invitation arrived in a sealed envelope.
Glossy.Stylized.Embossed.
It read:
You are cordially invited to attendThe First Kara Forumhosted by Nova Memory SocietyTopic: Legacy and Expansion
Below that, a tagline:
"Because remembering is not enough."
—
Emir turned the envelope over in his hands.
Three times.
He placed it on the table.
Then placed his hand on top of it.
Then lifted it again.
And smiled bitterly.
"So now I'm a guest at my own autopsy."
—
"You asked for this," Atatürk murmured,not with mockery—but with precision.
"You let it go.Now watch what it does with your name."
—
He didn't attend the forum.
But he read about it.Every article.Every photo.
Students in black coats and minimalist pins.
A stage shaped like a spiral.Spotlights turned soft gold.An opening performance titled:
"The Silence That Said Everything"
They had reduced his earliest notebook pages to stage pieces.
Not in bad faith.In adoration.
And yet, somehow, that felt more dangerous.
The next day, he met with Narin—an original Circle member.
She stood in front of the bookstore, arms crossed.
— "You're letting them use you."
— "No," Emir said.— "I'm letting them forget who I was."
She narrowed her eyes.
— "You think that's noble?"
— "No," he said.— "I think it's unavoidable."
She paused. Then asked:
— "Then what's your role now?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Finally, he said:
— "I'm not the echo.But I'm still the one who heard it first."
—
That night, he finally opened his notebook.
And wrote:
"Let them get me wrong.Let them misunderstand.Let them outgrow me."
"Because what I fear morethan imitation—is stillness."