"My name is Alec Trevelyan. I'm an agent with British MI6. I inherited my predecessor's designation—I am now 006!"
"December 15, 2000. Finally leaving this godforsaken place, America. After leaving Silent Hill, I settled Rose and Sharon in Paris, France. Sharon loves Paris, and Rose does too. Seeing the smiles on their faces, I believe every sacrifice was worth it."
"December 21, 2000. A few days before Christmas. Honoring my agreement with that witch, I'm returning to Los Angeles. I've uncovered some leads about the truth behind Prosperity Town. I'll deliver them to her first."
"December 22, 2000. Damn it! This cursed place! I just hailed a cab and some random pedestrian stabbed me twice with a knife! God! 007 wants to kill me, those Silent Hill monsters want to kill me, and now even random passersby want to kill me?
Even though my injuries hadn't healed yet, those two stabs dealt serious damage. Still, I seized the weapon and stabbed him through the throat!"
"January 12, 2001. Haven't written in the diary these past days—the injuries were too severe. I need rest!"
"January 19, 2001. Through newspapers and the internet, I've figured out the truth. The guy who attacked me was the Zodiac Killer, and I—(here follows a string of Cossack profanity)—killed the Zodiac Killer?!"
"March 15, 2001. Bloodbath on the streets of Paris. Hundreds dead, they say! Bodies covered with white sheets filled the streets. I sent my wife and child home, then stood outside the police cordon eating a hamburger and watching the chaos. Other people's misery makes me happy."
"March 16, 2001. These French idiots! When they can't catch the killer, they grab innocent people instead? French security services chased me through three city blocks (more Cossack profanity). I need to lay low."
"March 17, 2001. No good! Can't stay in this miserable Paris anymore. If they keep investigating, my cover will be blown. Time to run—to Berlin, Germany!"
"May 11, 2001. My cooperation with the witch is going smoothly, but I can't let my guard down. I know nothing about the mystical world. We can cooperate now, but what about later? Will she use those mysterious spells to secretly control me? I need adequate countermeasures."
"May 24, 2001. I created an opportunity to meet the renowned treasure hunter Ben Gates.
Ben Gates is a scholar, very pragmatic, incredibly knowledgeable. I disguised myself as a wealthy British adventurer and used fragments of mystical knowledge from the witch to pique Ben Gates's interest.
I have no idea what those mystical symbols mean, but Ben Gates was thrilled.
Ben Gates is very interested in the Knights Templar. I casually asked the witch about them. She was guarded, saying the Knights Templar and some Brotherhood were extremely secretive ancient organizations, warning me not to investigate further.
You tell me not to investigate, so I won't? Ridiculous! The Knights Templar must hold secrets!"
"June 4, 2001. I visited Ben Gates in Washington D.C. We had a wonderful conversation. Apparently, Ben Gates's ancestors had some connection to the Knights Templar. I feel like I'm touching the doorway to mysticism.
During our conversation, a massive explosion suddenly rang out in the distance. The Capitol Building? Someone bombed the Capitol?
I tried to calm Ben Gates, telling him not to panic, to evacuate with me. But this bookworm only cared about his precious books, packing a whole crate. I heard fighter jets. Why were there warplanes over Washington D.C.? Putting away my diary—no time to write! My life is at stake!"
"June 6, 2001. I was unconscious for two days. According to Ben Gates, a missile landed less than ten meters ahead of me. I was covered in blood, suffering massive skeletal fractures and severe concussion. The doctors all thought I was done for, but I survived through sheer physical toughness!"
"June 10, 2001. Ben Gates and I are getting closer. He visits every day. I'd rather not have this pity—he looks at me like I'm about to die any second!"
"June 11, 2001. Only now do I learn the White House was bombed. America went through two presidents in one day, and over a dozen government officials died. All of Washington D.C. was in chaos. There were even rioters looting hospitals! America is finished!"
"August 5, 2001. Ben Gates keeps going on about the Knights Templar. I'm not in the mood to listen. After two months in the hospital, I want to go home and see my wife and daughter. I've had enough of this damned America!"
"August 8, 2001. Ben Gates told me his family history and hopes I'll fund his search for something called the 'Charlotte' in the Arctic. Personally funding Arctic research—the cost is astronomical. I need to consider this carefully. I said goodbye to Ben Gates and returned to Berlin."
"November 7, 2001. My wounds have finally fully healed. The witch asked to meet me in Tel Aviv. I have to fly from Berlin to Damascus, then travel by road to Tel Aviv."
"November 8, 2001. A passing truck driver offered me a ride. He said his name was Wade Wilson, traveling from Baghdad to deliver some cargo to Tel Aviv. I could feel the cargo was extremely heavy and strange. When I asked Wade what it was, he said he didn't know either."
The handwriting paused here, as if 006 had hesitated about whether to continue, but ultimately decided to keep recording.
"This Wade Wilson talks too much!! From the moment I got in, he hasn't stopped chattering—how much money this job will make, his opinions on heavy metal rock, why do I keep a diary?
If you weren't so chatty, I'd be asleep! I'm writing in my diary because I don't want to talk to you! Can't you understand that?!
I didn't want to engage with this motor-mouth Wade Wilson, but suddenly I looked up and saw a dozen armed men standing in the middle of the road!"
"...Still November 8, 2001, I think. A group of bandits attacked Wade Wilson's truck with rocket launchers. This job he took has serious problems!" The handwriting here was very messy, with dirty, crumpled page corners.
"I've been buried alive in a coffin... I found some of my belongings at my feet. These bandits threw my diary, lighter, and phone into the coffin with me. Bad news: I can't escape on my own. Good news: the coffin isn't buried too deep and my phone still has signal. I'm desperately calling, hoping that witch will hurry up and save me! The oxygen in this coffin is running out!..."