In the boundless expanse of time and space, was there anything that was truly perfect?
Allison did not know the answer to that question.
At the very least, she had never heard of such a thing.
As far as she knew, everything, more or less, had some flaws.
The reason they went unnoticed—
was usually nothing more than the observer lacking the ability to perceive them.
Naturally, the relationship between husband and wife could not be truly flawless either.
Thus, in many situations, both sides needed to accommodate each other.
And it was precisely because of that—
that despite their natures seeming somewhat incompatible with Orsaga's,
the bond between them remained very good.
Right now,
after quietly tucking her worries over Orsaga's daily acts of wickedness into some unseen corner of her heart,
she slowly took two steps forward.
With a gentle expression, she stroked Orsaga's face.
Then, lightly hugging his arm, she changed the subject.
"What do you think of this plane now?"
Faced with Allison's question,
although Orsaga knew what she was worried about, he did not hesitate. He casually replied,
"It's fairly decent. Among middle-tier planes, it should count as quite good..."
Although he often appeared overly reckless—
or rather, somewhat oblivious to the consequences—
in truth, his mind and thoughts were unquestionably clear and perceptive.
After all, leaving everything else aside,
the countless stepping stones he had devoured alone were enough to raise his intelligence and powers of observation to a certain level.
The reason he often seemed to have no intellectual advantage
was merely because he himself was not quite normal...
A genius lunatic with lightning-fast thoughts was still a lunatic.
When he spent all day eating, drinking, whoring, gambling, and muddling through life waiting to die, what use could you expect his intelligence to