I Saved the Villain with Watermelons

Every time the tragic villain poured his heart out to me, I'd slip in one question: want to buy some watermelon from my family's farm? Guaranteed sweet.

The female lead went running to the male lead—I sold watermelon. The female lead started planning her wedding—I suggested he buy watermelon as the wedding gift.

Then he told me the female lead was pregnant and he didn't want to live anymore, and the system let out a shrill alarm that my mission was about to fail.

I gave it some serious thought. "Then how about you eat a slice of watermelon before you die?" The villain lost it.

He threw down the knife he'd been going to use on himself and drove all night to the farm. "Screw you and your watermelon!" "I'm gonna see for my own damn self what's so great about selling that crappy watermelon of yours!" Later on, the female lead lost the baby, and she came to the villain heartbroken and crying. "He doesn't want me anymore." The villain said, "That's rough for you." "Want to try some watermelon?" Chapter 1 The villain, Damon Rutledge, finally tracked the farm down while I was loading watermelons onto a truck.

We were broke and couldn't afford to hire anyone, so it was just me and the buyer's truck driver, hauling the crates ourselves.

We'd been at it forever and there was still more than half to go. The moment I saw Damon, it was like spotting the cavalry. My eyes lit up and I waved him over.

Damon walked toward me with a cold look on his face.

I set a crate of watermelons in his arms. "Give me a hand with this, put it over there, thanks." I pointed at the bed of the truck.

Damon's brows drew together. "I didn't come here to—" I stacked another crate on top. "Never mind what you came here for, just help me first.

I'm begging you." "The buyer needs these at the warehouse in Atlanta by eight tonight, and if we're late they knock the price down." While I talked I pressed my hands together in front of my chest and looked at him as pitifully as I could manage. "…" Damon was quiet for a moment.

Then he carried the watermelons over. He came back and had just opened his mouth to say something when I shoved three more crates into his arms.

Damon carried those over too, still without a word. With him helping, it went a lot faster, and we finished in an hour.

Damon leaned against his own car, breathing hard, most of his suit soaked through with sweat. I walked over and pushed a slice of watermelon into his hands.

He was already parched, so he didn't bother with manners. He ducked his head and took a huge bite.

Then his eyes came alive. "Good, right?" I smiled at him. "Just picked out of the field." "You can't get them this fresh in the city." Damon didn't say anything.

He finished the whole slice in silence.

I got him another slice. "You ate my watermelon, so tomorrow you're coming to help me sell." Somewhere in all that exhaustion, Damon finally remembered what he'd come for, and his face said he had no words for it. "What's so great about selling this crappy watermelon?

It barely makes any money." "It's less than what I pay you to text me." Which was true.

Back when the system first forced me to send him a message, he'd asked who I was and said he'd block me if I didn't tell him.

I lied and said a friend of his had signed him up for a paid companionship chat service, billed by the message. Turned out he said he didn't have any friends.

So I told him instead that one of his business rivals had hired me to bother him. Real corporate warfare is always this understated.

Then I laid it on thick: my grandpa had a terminal illness, we couldn't cover the medical bills, I got five dollars a message, please help me out.

Damon went silent for a few minutes. Then he wired me ten thousand dollars. Chapter 2 He kept my number after that.

Later on, probably when things got bad inside his head and there was genuinely no one else to talk to, he started telling me about it.

One day the female lead had ditched him to go on a date, the next day she'd kissed the male lead, and then the two of them had gone off traveling together… Every time, the closing line was the same. "Being alive feels pointless." I did try to talk him down. "You're still young.

Don't get hung up on one girl." [Villain mood value dropping sharply.

Host, please watch your words.] "You'll meet someone better down the road." [Host, please watch your words!] "Think about your family—" Oh. Right.

He didn't have any family. [Villain is showing strong suicidal ideation. Shut up, Host!] There was no talking him down.

On top of that, more and more melons were coming ripe, and every day I was scrambling to figure out how to move them, run ragged from morning to night.

So I couldn't be bothered with him anymore. Live or die, up to him. Preferably buy some watermelon first, then die.

What I never expected was that a few sales pitches would bring him straight to my door. The man took things way too seriously.

I grumbled about it in my head, and I couldn't let his last comment go. "What do you know?

We just haven't opened up a market yet." "Once it opens up and I sell out every last melon, I'll be the next richest person in Atlanta!" Damon gave me a look there was no word for.

Oh. The current richest person in Atlanta was him. He stayed anyway.

At five the next morning, right on schedule, I pushed open the door of the guest room. "Up and at it, you're coming to sell watermelon with me!" Damon liked to stay up spiraling in the middle of the night instead of sleeping, so he'd only just shut his eyes.

Woken up by me, he squinted at his phone, his voice thick with sleep. "The sun isn't even up…" "It will be by the time we get to town." "Hurry up, once the morning market clears out there's nobody left to buy!" I dragged him out by force and stuffed him into the old pickup loaded with crates. "Hold the crates steady, don't let the melons roll out." Damon: "…" We got into Bickford a little after six, and the farmers market was already going, plenty of people wandering through.

Damon was still in yesterday's suit, standing in front of a watermelon stand, and he looked completely out of place. But he stood out.

A good number of older ladies drifted over. "Aren't you a handsome young man.

Where are you from?" "You home on a break, helping the family out?" "You got a girlfriend?" "I can tell just looking at you that you've done well for yourself.

Want me to set you up with somebody…" The more Damon heard, the blanker his face got, and he had no idea what to do.

I stepped up to bail him out and raised my voice over the crowd. "Ma'am, how about a watermelon? Guaranteed sweet." She was already starting to wave me off.

So I clapped Damon on the shoulder and added, "He grew up on our watermelons too.

Just finished his master's at Georgia Tech, walked straight out of school into a sixfigure salary." "If you've got a kid or a grandkid with a test coming up or job hunting, take one home.

Maybe a little of his luck rubs off." That got a laugh out of them.

The ladies nodded along, giggling, since it couldn't hurt. "All right then, give me one." "I want two!" Once things picked up at our stand, more people crowded in.

Most of them pressed in around Damon with questions about everything.

He clearly couldn't hold them off, so as soon as I'd cleared that batch I went to the shop behind us and bought him a straw hat and a cheap pair of sunglasses.

While I was at it, I made him take off that pretentious suit jacket and roll his shirtsleeves up. Pretty soon nobody was paying much attention to him.

The market got busier and busier, and business was good even without him trading on his looks.

Chapter 3 I was busy taking money and moving melons, barely keeping up with my own end of it.

That was when the system alarm went off: the female lead had just posted a maternity family photo on Instagram. I looked back at Damon.

His head was down, the straw hat hiding his face, and gloom was rolling off him in waves. He had already shut down.

I sighed, walked straight over without hesitating, and smacked the top of the straw hat. Damon lifted his head, lost.

I shoved the pile of small bills in my hand at him. "Sell for a bit, I need the bathroom." Then I left. That left Damon standing there with a blank look on his face.

A few customers who had already paid started pushing him along. "Come on, young man, I've got to get back and cook for my granddaughter!" He had no choice but to bag the melons up clumsily and hand them over.

More and more customers came after that, and he didn't have room in his head for anything else.

Half an hour later, when I got back from sneaking off to eat breakfast, the melons were sold out. "Look at you!" I said it with real admiration, handed him the corn I'd just bought, and steered him into the pickup. "Come on!

Back for the next load." Damon's eyes went wide. "There's more?" "Of course." "If we only sold that much a day, we'd be at this till the cows come home!" I started the engine.

The next run was a TikTok live sale. I'd rigged a sunshade out in the melon patch and propped the phone up to go live on the front camera.

Whatever people ordered, we picked it fresh and shipped it. "…I don't know how to do a livestream." I'd dragged Damon in under the shade, and his face was pure confusion. "You don't have to know how.

Just stand behind me." I got the frame and the sound set, then turned and pulled him into position. Then I leaned in close and undid two buttons on his shirt.

Damon's heart lurched, and he stared at me like he couldn't believe it. "What are you doing!" I took my hand back, looked at the bit of chest muscle now showing, and nodded, satisfied. "Stand just like that.

Don't move." Then I turned around and started the stream. My stream usually had a handful of viewers, maybe a dozen.

Today, in under five minutes, a few hundred poured in. [Holy crap, the guy behind the streamer is so hot, and that build!] [Is the watermelon business really this cutthroat now?] [If I buy one, can the hot guy in the back pick it for me?] That last one got copied and spammed a few dozen times.

I was all smiles. "Absolutely you can!" Then I got the order link up as fast as I could. In under half an hour, a few hundred orders came through. Sales were up more than tenfold.

I was thrilled. Damon was about dead on his feet. That stream ran close to five hours, which meant five hours of picking melons in full sun for him.

By the time we went off the air, he was sprawled out in the patch with his chest heaving. I figured he had to be regretting the whole trip.

Regret it or not, the work still had to get done. Free labor is hard to come by, and it would be a shame not to get some use out of it.

I walked over and hauled him up. "Come on, we've got a truck to load." Damon looked even more like he wanted to die. "…" "I haven't even said I'm tired yet.

Don't tell me you're not up for it?" Damon set his jaw, took my hand and got to his feet, and bit the words out. "I never said I wasn't up for it!" I broke into a grin. "Let's go, then." Loading the truck took about as much work as it had the day before.

By the time we finished, it was eight on the dot.

I brought him back to the house and dug out one of my grandpa's old Tshirts and a pair of baggy shorts for him. "Go clean up first." Damon looked at the two pieces of clothing and didn't say anything.

I assumed he was turning his nose up at them, so I explained. "They're new, nobody's worn them." Chapter 4 "It's all we've got in the house, so make do." Damon looked at me with even more pity than before. "Your grandpa…" He didn't get the rest out, because Grandpa heard the noise and came downstairs, looking over at me. "Jess, you're back?

How'd the watermelons sell today?" Damon turned toward the voice on instinct, and his eyes flew open in horror.

Right then the system pinged. [Villain's mood is fluctuating severely. Host, please provide comfort.] I looked back at Damon and got alarmed myself. He'd just seen my grandpa.

What did he have to fluctuate about? Was that seriously his type? With Grandpa standing right there, I answered his question first