The representative of the Musicians' Association was wringing his hands in clear distress.

He pulled Clare aside, concern evident in his voice.

“Clare, what happened out there? The formal performance is about to start! Don't you know the music score inside and out by now?"

Clare, feeling cornered by the representative's interrogation, retorted with a blend of panic and frustration, "I know that music score like the back of my hand! But I've been saying that I'm not at my peak today. I desperately need a breather!"

Having said her piece, Clare's gaze shifted, locking onto Maria.