During the holidays, my boss wants us to choose between a holiday bonus and tarts.

I don't like tarts at all, so I'm the first one to vote for a bonus. But the intern, Davin Holt, who's in charge of gathering everyone's votes and opinions, is quick to pin me on the hall of shame in the company's group chat.

"Fabian, we mainly celebrate the holidays just to experience the atmosphere, you know? Isn't it too materialistic of you to vote for a bonus instead?"

The department head tags me in the group chat as well. "Fabian, our company prioritizes the team spirit even more."

In the end, everyone except me chooses the tarts.

On the day of our holiday team bonding event, Davin bought everyone nut tarts.

He knows that I'm allergic to nuts, and yet he still forces me to eat the tart in front of my boss just to show that I have team spirit.

"Fabian, I bought the tarts with everyone's bonus. You can't just rain on our parade by rejecting them, right?"

The next thing I know, I begin having difficulties breathing. At the same time, patches of red rashes break out on my skin.

But Davin shoots me a look of disgust. "Dude, must you really spoil the mood while everyone else is having fun?"

Desperately, I rummage through my bag for my allergy medication, only to see more tarts in its place.

The sight of me looking so wretched makes Davin roar in laughter.

"Medicine can be harmful to you, you know! You should have more desserts instead! That's why I've changed all of your medication to tarts!"

Already, I find it more and more difficult to breathe. So, I text the CEO of this company on the spot.

"Mom, my allergy is acting up! I'm at…"

The day before Thanksgiving, our department head posted a message.

"Everyone's been working hard! With Thanksgiving approaching, the company has prepared two options for you—an 800-dollar holiday bonus, or a company-customized tart gift box. Please vote within your department. Majority rules, and the department director will submit the final choice."

The group chat instantly exploded.

"Our boss is so generous! I love it!"

"A customized tart gift box sounds so fancy. I vote for tarts!"

"Isn't 800 bucks better? You can buy so many things with that."

I stared at my phone and voted for the cash without hesitation. I couldn't help thinking, who in their right mind would pass on 800 dollars for some company-branded tarts?

But less than a minute later, the intern in charge of tallying votes, Davin Holt, tagged me in the company group, saying, "Fabian, you're the only one in the department who picked the bonus. Did you vote wrongly?"

I frowned. Before I could reply, his second message popped up.

"Thanksgiving is about celebrating. The company giving out tarts is a thoughtful gesture. Don't you think that choosing cash like that comes off a bit materialistic?"

The lively discussion in the group instantly fell silent. The mood turned strange.

I took a deep breath and typed, "I just voted based on my personal preference. That's all."

As soon as I hit send, the department director, Clark Rackham, appeared. He tagged me directly and said, "Fabian, Davin has a point. Young people should think bigger. Don't always fixate on small amounts of money. The company values team spirit and collective pride. That custom tart gift box represents the image of our entire department."

Clark was my direct superior. The moment he spoke, everything shifted. The coworkers who had just been arguing for the bonus immediately changed their tune.

"Mr. Rackham is right. I was being narrow-minded!"

"Tarts it is! Team spirit comes first."

"Davin is such a good guy, always reminding us to uphold team unity."

Davin quickly sent a polite emoji and said, "Thank you, Mr. Rackham. I just think we should stay united and not let personal choices disrupt team harmony."

Watching everyone in the group echo each other and the flood of support for tarts, my stomach churned. All I did was vote for what everyone actually wanted. Yet, I somehow became the materialistic, close-minded guy with no sense of team spirit.

In the end, the result was no surprise. Aside from my single vote, everyone chose the tarts.

Clark happily announced in the group, "Excellent. This shows our department's strong cohesion! I've already submitted the result. Everyone, look forward to the company's Thanksgiving tart gift box."

The chat erupted in cheers, with all kinds of messages of flattery like "Mr. Rackham is wise" and "Our department is unbeatable."

Then, Davin messaged me privately, sending a smiling emoji and saying, "Fabian, don't be upset. I was just thinking of everyone."

I didn't reply. I simply smiled and closed the chat window.

The next day, the Thanksgiving team dinner was held in a banquet hall at an upscale hotel.

Clark, flushed from alcohol and holding a glass in hand, was delivering yet another speech about "unity" and "team cohesion".

I sat in a corner, quietly eating, trying to make myself invisible.

After a few rounds of drinking, the banquet hall doors opened. Hotel staff wheeled in a cart stacked with beautifully packaged tart gift boxes.

Davin was the first to rush up, open one, and hold it high. "Wow! Everyone, look! Mixed nut tarts! These must be expensive."

My heart sank. Mixed nuts such as walnuts, almonds, and melon seeds… Those were all a disaster for me. Especially walnuts. Even touching them could give me hives. I didn't even want to imagine what would happen if I ate one.

Meanwhile, my colleagues crowded forward to grab the boxes, opening them up and sharing the tarts on the spot. Praise filled the room.

"Mr. Rackham has great taste. These look amazing!"

"This is much more meaningful than 800 bucks."

I lowered my head, hoping no one would notice me. But of course, that didn't happen.

Davin walked straight over to me, holding a plate of tarts, his smile sickeningly sweet. "Fabian, why aren't you eating? We all gave up our bonuses for these. Try some. They're really good!"

He nudged the plate closer. A tart full of nuts stared right at me.

I clenched my hands, forcing a stiff smile. "Thanks, but I'm not really into sweet stuff."

"Oh, come on! Whether you like it or not, you should at least try a bite." His voice rose, drawing everyone's attention. "These tarts represent our department's collective pride. Fabian, you're not going to disrespect everyone like that, are you?"

The words "collective pride" pressed down on me like a weight.

Clark walked over, glass in hand, and patted my shoulder. "Fabian, Davin is right. It's just a gesture—a show of appreciation. Everyone's eating. What does it look like if you're the only one who doesn't? Don't kill the mood."

The others chimed in.

"Yeah, Fabian. It's just one bite."

"Don't be such a party pooper. Let's all have a good time."

"You're not still mad about the 800 dollars, are you? That's petty."

Everyone surrounded me. It felt like I was on trial, and my crime was being a "party pooper".

I took a deep breath, making one last attempt. "Mr. Rackham, I'm allergic to walnuts. I really can't eat it."

For a second, the room fell silent. Then, Davin burst into exaggerated laughter. "Fabian, that excuse is so old. Last time, it was alcohol. Now, it's walnuts. Next time, you'll tell us you're allergic to water."

He turned to Clark, looking aggrieved. "Mr. Rackham, I'm just trying to help Fabian fit in. Why would he lie like this just to reject everyone's kindness?"

Clark's expression darkened. He looked at me with disappointment. "Fabian, I didn't expect this from you. Making up lies like this just to throw a tantrum."

He then shoved a tart into my hand, his tone firm. "Today, you're eating this tart whether you want to or not. This is about attitude."

I gripped the tart in my hand, still trying to refuse.

Seeing that I wouldn't give in, Davin shot a look at a male colleague he was close with. The guy quietly stepped behind me and jabbed his fingers into my side.

Pain shot through me, causing me to gasp. And in that instant, Davin shoved the tart into my mouth. The other guy immediately followed up, forcing a glass of alcohol down my throat.

The moment I swallowed the tart, my throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. A burning pain exploded from within. Then, a suffocating swelling surged up from deep in my throat. My breathing turned rapid as rashes broke out across my face and neck, itching and burning.

I coughed violently, trying to force it out of my throat, but nothing came out.

Davin stood to the side with his arms crossed, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Oh? Putting on a show now? Fabian, with skills like that, you should've gone to acting school."

His friend laughed along. "Right? His face is all red. He's really going all out. If I didn't know better, I'd think we forced him to drink poison."

Clark snorted heavily, his face full of disdain. "That's enough, Fabian! Stop this act. You're ruining everyone's mood. If you don't want to stay, then get out!"

I braced myself against the table, trying to stand, but my legs felt like they were filled with lead. My vision blurred. Everything around me seemed distant, like I was underwater.

I clawed at my throat, feeling my airway tighten bit by bit. "Meds. My meds…" The words squeezed out through my teeth.

Summoning everything I had left, I reached for my briefcase on the chair, but it fell to the ground. Everything spilled out. Wallet. Keys. Tissues…

I fumbled through the mess on the ground like a madman. Finally, I found the pill case. My lifeline!

My hands trembled violently as I pried it open. But the next second, my blood ran cold.

It was empty. The white tablets that had been inside were gone. And in their place were crushed crumbs of a mixed nut tart.

How did this happen? Where were my meds? I had clearly checked before leaving the house. There had been at least three pills left.

Despair gripped me.

Watching me like this, Davin's smile widened. He crouched down, picked up the empty case, and waved it in front of my face. "Looking for this?"

His voice dropped low, laced with satisfaction. "Don't bother. I threw them out for you."

I snapped my head up, staring at him with bloodshot eyes. "Why?" I gasped out the word with great difficulty. It felt like a blade had sliced through my throat.

"Why?" Davin's grin grew brighter. "I think you're too delicate, allergic to this and that. It must be from taking too much medication. Medicine is basically poison. You should eat more sweets instead to build up your energy.

"So, I helped you out. I swapped your meds for tarts. See? I'm looking out for you."

His voice wasn't loud, but it hit my ears like thunder.

He switched out my medication. He knew about my allergy all along. Everything he did was him trying to kill me!