It's fully how Max Brod saved Kafka's work by ignoring his dying wish and prague repaid him by turning Kafka into a hummus cafe.

Reminds me Borges' story "Borges and I" - the public and the private persona.

https://www.themarginalian.org/2016/09/06/borges-and-i/

> The other one, the one called Borges, is the one things happen to. I walk through the streets of Buenos Aires and stop for a moment, perhaps mechanically now, to look at the arch of an entrance hall and the grillwork on the gate; I know of Borges from the mail and see his name on a list of professors or in a biographical dictionary. I like hourglasses, maps, eighteenth-century typography, the taste of coffee and the prose of Stevenson; he shares these preferences, but in a vain way that turns them into the attributes of an actor.

(The author not the message broker.)