Sitting in a rocking chair watching TV, Inzaghi held a glass of wine and took a sip.
Poor-quality whiskey was full of flavoring, and the taste rushed from Inzaghi's taste buds straight to his brain.
For a moment, Inzaghi thought about putting down this bottle of whiskey, which cost only a few bucks, as he highly doubted that even dessert shops would use such horrible-tasting alcohol.
But looking down at the seal paste mark that had yet to wash off his index finger, Inzaghi decided to continue tasting the bitterness.
With his current salary of less than 2 million euros, it was unclear when he could pay off his accumulated millions in debt.
Inzaghi even wondered if he'd end up owing billions by the time he died.
"That bastard Kevin, couldn't he have gone for sprinting earlier?"
Inzaghi muttered, complaining.
He desperately needed some short-term financial planning.
