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[Crossover] Ch 262: Annie Charlton
🕑 Added 2025-09-19 18:37:54 +0000 UTC— — — — — —
To Jack, Annie Charlton was a strange one.
She had short red hair bright as burning fire, and a tall and slender build—your classic European beauty.
A graduate of Samantha University with a master's degree, she now worked as Professor West's assistant. Supposedly, she was extremely capable.
But Annie's expression and tone were always stiff as ice, like you owed her a mountain of money.
And yet, according to West, she was apparently a veteran of many romances, with plenty of boyfriends in the past. Every single one ended in a breakup for one reason or another, leaving her, as West had once put it, "a tragic veteran of love."
That had stunned Jack.
He honestly couldn't imagine anyone falling for Annie's frosty personality in the first place.
If Jack hadn't seen groups of girls following Annie around with his own eyes, he'd have dismissed that as a blatant lie. But clearly Annie really was popular—at least with women.
Still, that didn't mean Jack was thrilled about Annie being part of this mission.
"Professor West, are we really fine with this setup?"
Jack was riding shotgun while West drove.
"What setup?" West asked, genuinely puzzled.
"I mean…"
Jack glanced at the rearview mirror. Annie's reflection stared back at him, face expressionless, arms crossed, looking every bit the ice queen.
Sure, she was pretty. But seeing that face suddenly in the middle of the night? Nightmare fuel.
Jack lowered his voice. "Just the three of us on this job—don't you think that's a little… unsafe?"
"You mean Annie?" West caught on immediately, lowering his voice too.
"Exactly," Jack muttered.
Bringing an outsider into something this big felt risky.
But West shook his head, still speaking softly. "Don't underestimate Annie. She's one of the top experts for this kind of work."
"Annie?" Jack blinked at him, incredulous, as if asking, 'Are you kidding me?'
West just grinned and winked at Annie in the back seat.
But Annie didn't move—arms crossed, legs crossed, face cold.
Seeing this, West kept smiling outwardly, but inside he was screaming.
'My Queen… seriously? Didn't you say you had a good impression of Jack and wanted to try dating him?'
Unlike Jack, West knew the truth.
He'd been Pluto's right-hand man for over a decade, guiding this God-Slayer through the world.
Yep—she was Pluto.
Despite the public imagining John P. Smith as some dashing gentleman, Pluto—the Campione—was actually a woman.
And under that motorcycle-style, full-face helmet was Annie Charlton's icy, beautiful face.
Rational, calm, brilliant, capable—she was the very definition of a strong woman. A top student. The Campione who ruled over the Americas.
And yet, at heart, she was a 28-time loser at love, whose best relationship had consisted of holding someone's hand—
And even that had happened while disguised as the male "Pluto," saving her crush from a dangerous situation.
Calling it "holding hands" was generous—it was more like dragging the man out of harm's way.
And afterward, that man had thanked her… with his girlfriend by his side. Annie had gone home that night, cracked open a bottle, and drunk herself into oblivion.
Bottom line: Annie Charlton was a woman who could win any battle—except the one called romance.
For the record, Jack was the 29th man Annie had "shown interest" in.
But according to West, their entire interaction so far consisted of:
"Hi."
"Oh. Hi."
Then Annie would privately insist, 'We got along great. We're both interested. Just a matter of time before we start dating.'
West had never believed her for a second.
'Girl, you're killing me here. Every time you claim to like someone, you make me play matchmaker, and then you keep that frozen face like everyone is your mortal enemy. Are you messing with me for fun?!'
Suppressing his irritation, West steered the car and shifted the conversation back on track.
"So, Jack, how much do you know about our target?"
"Well, does a name and a photo count?" Jack let out an exasperated laugh.
"God knows what the intel department's doing. They said it was classified and wouldn't give me any real information. All I know is his name is Ryo Yagami. Black hair, black eyes, ridiculously handsome. That's it."
"This is just insane."
From the back seat, Annie finally spoke, voice calm and cold: "The Lu family intervened."
"The Lu family?" Jack glanced back at her.
"They're a major family based in Harbor City, with ties to the cult that rules China," Annie explained evenly. "In America, they've got connections with ninety percent of the Chinese gangs. They're behind the intel blackout. And they're not working alone—Italian and British magical societies are involved as well."
Jack's head spun.
"Fine, I get the Lu family part, but why the hell would Italy and Britain help this Yagami guy? What's he got to do with them?"
West chuckled. "Because King Ryo is their new Overlord."
"Overlord?!" Jack's jaw nearly hit the floor.
"That's right."
Annie's eyes narrowed, her tone as calm as ever.
"Among those on Pluto's level, Ryo Yagami is… unusual. You probably won't believe this, but until a week ago, he was a complete nobody. There was no record of him in any magical society anywhere."
"But then, in just one week, he rose like a storm in Italy.
"First, he defeated Pallas Athena—the trinity queen herself. Then he challenged the Persian war god Verethragna and the Mediterranean god-king Melqart.
"After that, he beat the King of Swords Salvatore Doni, the Southern European Overlord. He fought the Black Prince Alec of Britain for control of the Witenagemot—and won. Rumor has it he even clashed with Marquis Voban and Luo Hao, the Cult Leader."
Jack stared blankly. "I don't know who those people are!"
"…"
West gave him a look as though he were a chimp in a zoo. "All you need to know is—they're all in Pluto's league."
Jack sucked in a sharp breath.
Annie, for once, let out a quiet sigh. "Truthfully… even Pluto might not be sure he can beat King Ryo."
Jack blinked. "Why does he have to fight?"
"Because that's how it works," West said with a wry smile.
"When a new King rises, he usually steps on the old ones to make his throne. Four years ago, the King of Swords challenged the whole world. What Ryo Yagami is doing now… is no different."
"So, he's coming here—to challenge Pluto?"
Jack's stomach dropped. "That means two monsters of that caliber are going to fight in Los Angeles?!"
West nodded gravely, glancing at Annie in the rearview mirror. "And worst of all… Pluto isn't confident about winning this time."
Jack clenched a fist.
"Don't worry, Professor. Pluto's the kind of man—" he caught himself—"the kind of person who makes miracles happen. He's faced impossible odds before and won. I'm sure this time will be no different."
West caught sight of Annie's faint smile in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction.
"You're right, Jack. Pluto doesn't lose. Hahaha!"
The old car rolled onto a private runway.
This was a military airfield, cleared out specifically to receive Ryo's private jet.
By the time West and the others arrived, a small plane was descending from the sky.
"Right on schedule."
Jack took a deep breath and glanced at Annie's serious face, then followed West to the base of the stairway.
Moments later, the cabin door opened. A man stepped out first.
An unmistakably Asian face, black hair, black eyes—eyes like black pearls, yet bottomless as a dark lake. Just meeting his gaze sent a chill down Jack's spine.
He was handsome, even by Western standards. But somehow, the moment you looked away, you couldn't quite remember his face—only those piercing eyes, burned into your memory.
Terrifying. Majestic. As if a god had stepped down from his temple and into the world of men.
That was Jack's first impression of Ryo Yagami.
And as Jack stood there, stunned, Ryo strode down the stairs.
He stopped in front of the three of them, his eyes lingering on Annie, and—strangely—he looked surprised.
'Why would someone like him look surprised at Annie?' Jack wondered.
Then Ryo smiled faintly and spoke: "Pluto herself coming to greet me? I'm honored."
P-Pluto?
Jack's brain practically short-circuited.
.
.
.
