Winter holidays are a big deal at InEvents. The company is famous for its decadent Employee Christmas parties that showcase its unique savoir‑faire. Each year, magazines and newspapers broadcast glimpses of the event. Teams fly in from across the globe. Families are invited. And of course, the best clients (including many world‑famous stars) join the celebration as guests of honor.

You are new to the company. You only joined three months ago, and for now, you LOVE everything. The work is stressful, but the rewards are worth it. Each building has a free bar (mocktails only, of course). Food is catered daily for employees. Hours are flexible. Vacation allowance is huge. Talented and efficient staff members are treated like royalty. Those who don’t meet the standards? They don’t make it past selections... and if they do, they are quickly removed.

As an employee, you were given an invitation to the Christmas Party, along with a plane ticket and free accommodation. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Needless to say, you are excited. You will receive lavish gifts from the company, see and even talk to idols. It’s a dream come true. And anyone who says otherwise was probably not invited and is just envious.

Everything looked radiant until you received an email from HR. They had the great idea of introducing the dreadful "Secret Santa" tradition to this year’s party. You won’t know who your gift is for until the day of the event. For now, you’ve only received a randomly generated number. You are number 185.

You rush through the shops to find the perfect gift. Something that fits the modest budget set by HR and pleases a completely anonymous stranger. It’s hard, it’s tiresome. It feels like hell. And let’s be honest… you’re not that pleased with whatever you finally bought out of exhaustion.

But hey, that’s fine. It’s just a silly little tradition that no one will care about. After all, everyone knows that Secret Santas often gift toilet paper, shower gel, and the like. Why would it be different here… right? At least YOUR gift is decent.

You don’t think about it anymore until the morning of the flight, when you overhear your colleagues discussing the "Secret Santa" matter. You realize in horror that none of them respected the budget. They didn’t want to risk embarrassment if their assigned number belonged to a VIP guest or, worse, the CEO, Cedric Heartorn. They didn’t just buy expensive gifts, they went out of their way to find items that were unique and original.

You suddenly feel very small. But it’s too late. You have to hurry to the airport. The flight is long, and you don’t have time to stop at the duty‑free shop. Even if you could, whatever you’d buy there wouldn’t impress a VIP, and it would make a deep hole in your bank account.

Part of you braces for impending doom, while another part tries to convince itself that everything will be fine. There will be thousands of employees attending this party and only a few dozen VIPs. Even if you feel like fainting from stress, statistics are pretty much on your side.

You arrive at the event, and they give you a beautiful gold bracelet engraved with the number 14. You are also provided with a sleek golden card with the number 185. You now understand how it works. You are the Secret Santa of whoever has the bracelet N° 185. And whoever has a card with a 14 is your Secret Santa

You glance around the glittering ballroom, chandeliers blazing, laughter echoing. And then you see it. The CEO, Cedric Heartorn himself, raising his wrist to toast the crowd. The gold bracelet on his arm gleams under the lights but you are too far to see the number. Hopefully, it's not the 185.