Dojima creaked the door open slowly, checking to make sure his beloved daughter was still asleep. She was.

In the silence of the night Dojima trekked through utter darkness, accidentally bumping rather painfully into the small table, just barely managing to keep his groan in check as he stumbled to the couch, getting on his knees and sliding a locked tin box out from under it.

He couldn't help glancing over his shoulder repeatedly as he removed a certain key from his pocket, even while knowing full well that his nephew was on a trip to Port Island and Nanako was sound asleep.

A solemn expression sat heavily upon his face as he lifted the item from its box, handling it with the greatest care and looking towards his daughter's room yet again.

She couldn't know. They couldn't know.

No one must ever know.

A corner of the small room glowed red as Dojima slipped the mask device on, three slim beams breaking through the shadows effortlessly.

Dojima smoothed out his vest absently as he got up, making way for the door and almost forgetting to grab his favorite coffee mug in the process.

Stepping out into the cold, unforgiving moonlit night he took a sip of his freshly brewed cup of joe, his gaze marked by a thin stream of crimson that slowly diminished into a black darker than any coffee.

Just like Special Blend 13, Justice had a particular scent, bewitching and almost maddening until you reached the source of the rich aroma. Dojima -- no, Godot, for that was the name of this hero of the night -- took another sip from his righteous mug, gathering his resolve and stepping away from his family's residence.

It was his first mug of the night, and it would be long before he reached his 17th.

Tonight's search for truth was far from over.