"It's got to be Maria pulling strings, keeping the organizers from calling me, maybe even convincing them to find a replacement for me,"

Clare murmured to herself with growing unease.

These thoughts left Clare with a mounting sense of anxiety.

The prospect of them securing a replacement was a substantial blow to her.

Clare reassured herself, “No, that's impossible. There are hardly any Ancient Zither performers in the country, and Maria couldn't make time for the concert. Even if they find a willing performer, the official performance will be held in just two days, It's too late to master the music score."

Unlike other traditional instruments favored by many performers, the Ancient Zither was an uncommon rarity.

Few embarked on the path of studying Ancient Zither performance, and finding someone of the required caliber for the concert was an even more daunting task.

Across music academies nationwide, few students chose the Ancient Zither as their major.

"Well, well!" Having unraveled the situation, Clare found herself considerably more at ease.

At that very moment, a phone call broke the silence.

Though the number was unfamiliar, Clare paused briefly before answering the call.

"Hello? Who's on the line? I'm in the middle of something, so make it quick," Clare answered with her characteristic arrogance.

"Congratulations, esteemed VIP client! You've just hit the jackpot with our company." The voice on the other end brimmed with excitement.

Clare cursed under her breath, "Damn it!"

Realizing it was a scam, Clare's fury had her immediately end the call. Yet, a twinge of embarrassment colored her cheeks, regretting her pompous greeting.

"The Musicians' Association will surely reach out to me soon!" Clare asserted.

Clare held onto this belief, yet her phone remained eerily silent as time elapsed.

Not a single call. Not even from a scammer...

Within the hallowed halls of the theater's rehearsal space, a pervasive somberness enveloped every member of the troupe.

The soloist had abruptly departed, leaving a mere forty-eight hours before the official performance. Finding a replacement for Clare in such a brief span seemed insurmountable.

The majority of the crew stood in awkward silence, their embarrassment palpable. The Musicians’ Association's representative dialed Clare's number, fervently attempting to persuade her to return promptly.

Amidst the chaos, only Atwood and Maria cast their gazes upon the strewn sheet music collected from the floor.

This collection belonged to Cara, Atwood's bashful assistant.

Cara's cheeks flushed with shyness. These songs were her clandestine practice, never meant to be revealed to anyone.