"Perhaps. But failing to keep a madman under control is also the guardian's responsibility. I can already imagine your capabilities. Perhaps this business is not suitable."
Mr. Mason forcibly suppressed his anger and managed to say this with some semblance of dignity. However, his wife beside him clearly could not endure being covered in overturned cake. She had even worn one of her favorite dresses today.
Such luxury goods were not easy to clean. She would never be able to wear it again!
"You rude bastards! We lowered ourselves and bestowed upon you the boundless honor of visiting your home, yet you dare do such a thing! You think people like you can squeeze into our upper-class circle? Dream on!"
Women were terrifying when they went mad, especially when rage clouded their minds.
Sharp, vicious words continuously spilled from her mouth, leaving Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia ashen-faced. Only the thick-skinned Dudley continued eating the salvaged portion of the cake.
Uncle Vernon, who was always so ferocious in front of Harry, now looked utterly servile, humbly trying to explain himself.
Yet the couple clearly had no intention of listening any longer. Though Sir Mason had not lost control as thoroughly as his wife, he had no wish to remain. He took the towel Aunt Petunia had prepared, hastily wiped the obvious stains from himself, refused Uncle Vernon's offer to change clothes, and rose to leave.
Faced with their forceful departure, Uncle Vernon had no way to stop them.
He was merely a supervisor at Grumbling Company. In ordinary people's eyes, he was indeed a successful man, one of the better members of the middle class.
But compared to an aristocrat like Sir Merlin, the gap was simply too vast.
He could already sense the darkness awaiting him. He would probably