A re-telling of Phantom of the Opera, but not in the way you think.

The year is 1921. It is the tenth year of the Taisho era, a time of rapid modernization, an embracing of the arts, and a rise of clashing ideals within society.

Kiyoko Daichi has lost everything, including her voice. Her darling Papa, a humble violinist, was taken from her in the form of a cruel illness. Her childhood best friend has been sent off to fight in Siberia, and his elder brother, the patriarch of the family, has told her not to contact him from now on. With nothing left but the ashes of crumbling dreams, Kiyoko seeks to somehow fulfill the dream her father had for her: become a songstress.

Lost and alone except for the letters from Russia from her persistent friend and mementos of her father, Kiyoko stumbles upon a rather interesting musical theatre troupe looking for new members. Their director, a mysterious man whose face no one has ever beheld, invites them all to perform his pieces in a decaying, abandoned theater, where he rewards their courage to perform on that rundown stage generously...

...provided they ask no questions. None.

Accepting a role in the chorus, Kiyoko thinks that perhaps this is her chance to sing like she dreamed for her Papa after all. She throws herself into her roles and continues to answer her dear friend's letters and begs him to come home. As they perform piece after piece, there seems to be something in the shadows, a Voice at once enchanting and terrifying, seeping through the walls, everywhere at once as the floorboards themselves begin to tell a very, very different story of their benefactor.

Who is this man? What does he want with them? And why is there a rumbling in the theatre, spreading through the ceiling and dripping down the walls, coming closer and closer every time that Voice sings?

And what does the Voice want with Kiyoko?