The vintage theater sits on the quiet of a quiet street, its grand façade yet nevertheless delightfully faded, like a memory of applause and velvet curtains. It has stood empty for years, its doors locked, its stories hidden in the shadows. But today, the ordinary sounds on the walls, the faint whispers, the flickering stage lighting devices, the echo of footsteps, in which no one should stroll.
Detective Evelyn Marlowe is well aware of the building. She’s been searching for secrets in this city for decades, and this one is waiting for her.Once inside, Evelyn sees a world frozen in time. Old scripts are scattered to degrees, costumes hang ghostly in dressing rooms, and props rest as they were left that last night years ago Photographs, personal items, forgotten notes begin to piece together a story that by no means ended up being told nicely. But Evelyn soon realizes that she is not me.
A masked guy watches from the shadows, knowing besides Victor Graves, a former theater worker who tends to percentages. He often includes a secret that night, but he refuses to talk.