Hang on a tick; you can teleport. Why don't you just do that? In fact, why don't you do it more often?
Well, probably because Maxwell started putting up flypaper after the desk incident. Since then, you've mostly just used it for dramatic entrances and going directly from your bed to the bathroom at night to avoid waking the kids.
"I've got a solution," you tell him. "We unseal it, then ye seal it again behind me. I can get back through on my own."
"And how will you do that? No misdirection, no trying to goad me into asking more questions. Explain."
You frown at his boring pragmatism and pull out a Bible. "I can do this."
As you materialize behind him amidst your swarm of pages, you file away the idea of papercutting the living shit out of people with this for later.
To your mild surprise, Alfred isn't as flustered as you'd expect someone who'd just witnessed one of your many insults to modern understanding of space and time to be.
"You can go through solid objects with that?"
"Aye, so long as there's enough room for a page ta slip in; I just need ta know how far ta go."
He nods. "Do you use a Hunter tool to do that? The Old Hunter's Bone allows one to move faster than the eye can follow, but I've never seen true teleportation."
Something new to ask Gehrman about; there's no need to extend this conversation any further. "Somethin' like that. Satisfied?"
"I suppose; so long as you're not putting anyone else in danger, there's no reason for me to stop your suicide mission. The entrance is hidden beneath that altar on the first floor."
"D'ye know how ta open it up?"
He looks rather guilty as he points to...of-fucking-course it's a goddamn lever.
"Ye've got a whole horde o' beasts down there. Ye go ta all the trouble o' sealin' the place off and ye put the key where any chucklefuck could open it?"
"Trust me, I'm with you on this."
"Ye could at least put some tape around it. A 'do not pull' sign, anythin' at all."
"I know, right?"
Well, you'll have plenty of time to gut and refurbish this place's infrastructure once you have the crazy guy and his gatling gun. You hop over the railing and make your way over to the altar. Alfred, who you're pretty sure agreed to all of this mostly as an excuse to have a slab of rock between you and him, pulls the lever at your signal. The altar slides backwards (not on any sort of rails or with any visible connection to the lever, of course), revealing a forgotten stairwell.
"Be back in a bit, Al."
"Please don't call me that."
"So long as ye don't call me 'Betty.'"
"What?"
You're barely halfway down before the altar slides back into place. Perplexingly, your way is still lit. You find the culprits, a large group of statues holding candles, at the bottom of the stairs, girding another room with the omnipresent circular patterns on the floor. How are these things still lit?
Apparently, for as far behind as Yharnam is in most respects, they're on the cutting edge of candle technology. Or maybe they just killed a shitload of whales.
Questions for later.
[] Go in stealthy
[] Go in violent
[] Write in...