Atwood chuckled.

“Don't you know the tradition? With such rapturous applause, it beckons you for another rendition. They're calling for an encore."

The realization dawned on Cara that she, a mere fill-in, was being hailed for an encore.

"Well...

“I understand, Mr. Clarkson," she replied, her voice wavering with emotion.

With urgency, and not wanting to keep the audience in suspense, she nodded in gratitude to Atwood and swiftly made her way back to the spotlight.

Meanwhile, Clare mustered the nerve to revisit the concert's live streaming room.

She'd assumed Cara's performance had concluded, but to her astonishment, the audience's roaring approval had beckoned Cara back!

Clare knew exactly what it meant. This was the ultimate homage to a musician.

Even the virtual crowd in the live streaming room mirrored the theater's excitement, though they couldn't physically clap.

"Oh, yeah! She's back!"

"Again, again! I could listen to your performance forever!"

"Cara's face is blushed. How could she be so cute? How adorable she is!"

As Cara settled into her seat, an intense hush blanketed the audience.

Everyone seemed fearful that a mere whisper might shatter the enchantment.

With precision and passion, Cara replayed her solo.

Peeking from the wings, Atwood mused aloud, "She's quite the dedicated soul. I simply nudged her for an encore, and she pours out her entire setlist."

Typically, an encore consisted of just one piece.

Though aware of this convention, Cara was so wrapped up in the moment that she just played from her heart, not sparing a thought to protocol.

After delivering her pieces, Cara offered a deep, gracious bow and retreated stage left.

"We want more! One more, Cara!"

"We need you to perform another hundred million times! Cara! Cara!

Cara!"

The virtual spectators were ablaze with fervor, their enthusiasm palpable, as if they wished to summon Cara back through sheer will.