As the enslaved party, Baimon felt under a lot of pressure.
He had been doing just fine as a Pillar God, only to be summoned over and toyed with out of the blue. He'd thought he could get revenge, but in the end, he'd even lost his freedom.
It was downright unfair.
Now, Baimon could only hope that the young wizard would live out his lifespan soon, so the contract would be dissolved. Fortunately, a few hundred years wasn't all that long for a demon.
"From now on, your main duties will be maintaining my public image and handling my day-to-day life as an athlete.
"As for funds, I'll give you ten thousand Galleons to start with. By the Magical World's current standards, that should be enough to last you a while."
Klein had quite a few people working under him, if he thought about it.
Aside from the crowd on Heaven Street, his influence stretched across various European countries. But strictly speaking, those people belonged to Soren, not Klein Grindelwald.
Even Imhotep was listed under Glinklai.
He couldn't expect a bald man from three thousand years ago to be familiar with all the ins and outs of modern society, could he?
After giving it some thought, the hapless familiar he'd signed a contract with on a whim was still the best choice.
First of all, Baimon had a human appearance, so there was no need for him to transform.
Second, as a paragon of learning and erudition, Baimon was a quick learner. As long as he applied himself, there was nothing he couldn't do.
And with the contract binding him, Klein didn't have to worry about Baimon betraying him.
By any measure, he was a very suitable candidate—or rather, demon.
"Yes, Master."
Baimon replied listlessly.
He'd figured it out: