Richard the Lionheart was a British King with a legendary, almost mythical historical reputation. The Hahn family's inherited title, however, was Baron Lionheart.
If there wasn't a direct, blood-soaked connection between the two, the three men sitting around the rotting wooden table would absolutely not believe it.
The question was… what merit did the destitute Hahn family possess to earn it?
Yusaku Kudo was genuinely astonished. A great crusader king from nearly a thousand years ago naturally held an untouchable status in British history. So why would the British Crown bestow such a specific, legendary honorary title upon a working-class bloodline in another country? Even if the British shadow government wanted to use an American family as bait or a front, they wouldn't need to grant the title of "Lionheart." It didn't make logical sense…
Rubbing his temples to stave off a brewing headache, Yusaku realized there were too many illogical, contradictory things about the Hahn family.
But…
"Richard the Lionheart was born in 1157 AD," Yusaku muttered, his brilliant eyes flashing with a sudden realization. "This specific time period coincides with the historical transition from Old English to Middle English."
Chief Gray blinked, finding the leap in logic hard to swallow. "You mean... the encryption method of this psychotic, human-skin diary is Old English?"
"It's highly probable."
"Yusaku, listen to yourself," Gray scoffed, shaking his head. "Old Hahn was just a dockworker and a farmhand. As a cop in this state, I know all too well the absolute garbage state of public education in the US. It isn't easy for country folk to learn to read and write at a high school level. Our 'happy education' system is designed to keep the poor dumb and the rich educated. So, a farmhand from this dying town wouldn't even be able to recognize advanced Modern English, let alone archaic Old English from the 12th century!"
"...Let's just try it first," Yusaku insisted, his impression of old Hahn Rasford no longer just that of a simple, raving vagrant.
None of the three men present had studied Old English academically, so they could only reluctantly pull out their smartphones to use specialized translation databases. Rearranging the phonetic letters and cross-referencing the archaic syntax one by one took quite a bit of time.
However, when they finally translated the first 'prayer' paragraph, a dead, suffocating silence fell over the cabin.
> [Cliff, my son. By the time you discover the truth hidden in this book, I may no longer be alive. Don't worry, the Kingdom of God will accept your father.]
At this moment, Cliff stared blankly at the glowing screen showing the translated sentence.
No longer alive…
'Dad, you bastard...' Cliff thought, his vision blurring with unshed tears and sudden grief. 'Why did you only tell me this now…'
Beside him, Chief Gray looked at Yusaku, who wore a grim "I knew it" expression, hesitant to speak.
'No fucking way. Are you serious!?' Gray thought, his mind reeling.
The word arrangement was a dual-cipher masterpiece. Read normally, translated into Modern English, it was a fanatic, blasphemous prayer to a limited God. But when phonetically mapped and translated back into Old English, it formed a direct, coherent letter left for Cliff.
And the translation between the two languages was absolutely seamless.
This kind of cryptographic knowledge was enough to be called terrifyingly erudite. Hahn Rasford could have easily taught linguistics at an Ivy League university.
At this moment, Gray also fell completely silent. He finally realized that he had stepped into an incredible, lethal vortex. It's a bit like living in a fucked-up movie… This thought inexplicably gave the hardened police chief a somewhat unreal, dazed feeling.
'If that's the case, isn't this dockworker Cliff the protagonist?' Thinking this, Gray looked at the bruised, rough-looking man with a strange, evaluating expression.
"Continue translating," Yusaku said enthusiastically, his detective's blood pumping. Finally, he'd caught old Hahn's genius red-handed.
> [Cliff, I'm sure you have many doubts now, and you may have even encountered some ill-intentioned bastards targeting our blood. Relax, my child. Trust your own eyes. You are the true heir to Baron Lionheart!]
What did that mean? The group exchanged bewildered glances, confused by old Hahn's warning. Was old Hahn implying that the bizarre time-loop and the supernatural encounters on the commercial street were real? Or was it a warning that seeing is believing? Was there some deeper demonic deception at play?
Night had completely fallen outside.
Cliff lit the old-fashioned oil lamp to illuminate the room. But the flickering, yellow light only highlighted Cliff's deeply troubled expression. His father was confirmed dead. Was his decade-long search still meaningful?
The heir to Baron Lionheart… Cliff looked down at his rough, calloused, dirt-stained hands. What the hell was he supposed to do with a title like that?
Just as he was about to speak…
"BANG, BANG, BANG!"
The three men jumped, instantly exchanging wary, adrenaline-fueled glances. They simultaneously drew their firearms—Gray his police-issue Glock, Yusaku his custom tranquilizer, and Cliff a heavy Colt revolver he kept hidden under the floorboards.
Who could be visiting Cliff so late at night? And why such a violent, rude knock? It wasn't just knocking; it sounded like someone was trying to cave the door in.
"Cliff! It's me! Yusaku Kudo!"
Those words instantly chilled the atmosphere in the cabin to absolute zero.
'Yusaku Kudo!!?? Are you fucking kidding me?!' Cliff thought, his gun shaking. 'Then who the hell is this guy sitting at my table?!'
The voice outside sounded exactly like Yusaku Kudo's smooth, analytical tone, but laced with an urgent, terrified pitch, as if a brutal murder was taking place right behind him.
Cliff's pupils constricted. He immediately turned his heavy revolver to scrutinize the two men sitting across from him.
Even Chief Gray took a step back, glancing at his old buddy Yusaku with an inscrutable, deeply suspicious look, his finger hovering over his trigger.
Only Yusaku himself, after a split-second of stunned silence, frowned deeply and barked a reminder.
"It's a voice changer! Or maybe it's some kind of supernatural mimicry. Don't be fooled by the thing outside! I'm right here!" Yusaku hissed.
"Get away from that guy!" the voice outside screamed, pounding on the wood. "Old buddy! Cliff! Listen to me! Let me in first! I'll shoot that imposter myself!"
Feeling the scrutinizing, suspicious gazes of the two armed men aimed at his chest, Yusaku felt a cold sweat break out. Indeed. The thing outside is smart. If they let the man in, the two identical Yusakus facing each other directly would cause absolute chaos. In the confusion, someone would get shot.
"...Let him in first," Gray muttered, his police training kicking in. He still preferred to logically trust the buddy he had been riding in the car with all day. Letting the one outside in wasn't a tactical problem; the three of them inside had their guns drawn. Surely they could handle a single imposter?
A prudent suggestion. That's what Cliff logically thought.
But his brow furrowed deeply. Something felt wrong. He watched as Chief Gray walked step by step toward the entryway, reaching out to unlock the deadbolt. With every inch Gray moved closer to the wood, Cliff's heart pounded faster and faster.
It felt like his blood was flowing backward. A massive, primal sense of urgency screamed in his skull. He could clearly see the hairs on his arms standing completely on end. A violent chill ran down his spine.
Something is terribly wrong! This door absolutely cannot be opened!
Suddenly, Cliff remembered the specific line they had just translated from the human-skin book: "Trust your own eyes." In Cliff's eyes, the Yusaku Kudo sitting inside the cabin, sweating and clutching the diary, was the real person he had entrusted with the task. The thing outside was trying to deceive them.
"Gray! Stop! Don't fucking open the door!" Cliff roared, cocking the hammer of his Colt.
Hearing the absolute terror in Cliff's voice, Gray froze and slowly withdrew his hand from the doorknob. "What did you find?"
"...I don't know," Cliff breathed heavily, his eyes wide. "But I feel like if we open that door, we're all going to die. It's an intuition."
Intuition? Gray found it somewhat absurd to rely on a gut feeling when a potential victim or suspect was outside. But Yusaku stared thoughtfully at the vibrating door.
It was just a flimsy, rotting wooden door. A normal adult could easily kick it off its hinges with one solid strike. If the person outside was so desperate, why were they just knocking? Why hadn't they broken it down?
"BANG BANG BANG BANG!"
"Open the door! Cliff! It's Yusaku! Let me in!"
"BANG BANG BANG!!" "Open the door quickly! It's dangerous inside! He's not me!"
"BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!" "OPEN THE DOOR!! LET ME IN! LET ME IN!!!"
The knocking became urgent, violent, and utterly frantic. But the sound... the sound was gradually changing. The voice was losing its human cadence, warping into a muffled, guttural screech. The pounding against the wood didn't sound like knuckles anymore—it sounded like wet, heavy meat slamming against the frame.
The three men stood perfectly still, their guns trained on the shaking hinges, their muscles coiled tight with tension.
What the hell was knocking on the door...?
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