Sometimes, a hotel becomes a vault for time
a place where memories settle like dust,
and those who stay behind become part of its silence.
The Imperial Hotel is not merely the story of a fire.
It is a story whispered by time itself
a man's struggle to uncover the truth before he fades into his own shadow.
Behind the scent of lavender lies the weight of memory,
a clock that stops each night at the same minute,
and a dialogue that continues within the heart of a building long after it's gone.
This novel reminds us that truth is not always seen sometimes, it is felt in silence.
Like footsteps echoing through marble halls,
this story drifts between past and present,
between dream and confession.
It is not about what was lost in the fire
but about what survived within.
Sergen Sancak
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