Golden Spoon Investment Portfolio - Chapter 95

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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95. How could this happen?

Honk! Honk!

Car horns blared menacingly from all directions, yet Seok-won found himself oddly reassured by the sight.

“Perfect.”

With traffic now gridlocked, vehicles from this direction would be unable to ascend onto the bridge.

“Hey! Aren’t you listening to me?”

An angry voice from beside me snapped me back to the present, and I turned my head.
A man with one hand gripping the back of his neck stood there, his face flushed with rage.

“Why did you cross lanes and ram into a car that was driving perfectly fine? Were you drunk driving or something?”

The man sniffed suspiciously, his nostrils flaring.
His face was beet red—clearly he was furious.
It was understandable, having been hit by a car out of nowhere.
As I surveyed the surroundings, cars had come to a standstill in both directions, with people either stepping out or peering through windows, their expressions twisted with irritation as they stared at me.

“Hey! What are you doing right now?”

The man bellowed, and I straightened my head, speaking calmly.

“I sincerely apologize. I mistook the accelerator for the brake and accidentally caused this accident.”
“That’s your problem. What are you going to do about my damaged car?”

The man spoke harshly, his hand still gripping the back of his neck as he scowled.

“It’s sore—I think I’ve injured my neck too.”

Looking at the damaged vehicle, the front fender of the white sedan was deeply dented, and the bumper hung loosely on one side.

“Damn it. I just bought this a few months ago. I’ve got the worst luck.”

The man spat sharply and growled.
Seok-won’s BMW also had its left headlight shattered and bumper cracked, but that hardly mattered.

“This is entirely my fault. I’ll handle all the car repairs and medical expenses however you see fit, so please don’t worry.”
“So you should keep your eyes open and drive properly… huh?”

The man, who had been operating under the assumption that whoever shouted loudest won, blinked in confusion upon hearing Seok-won’s words.
Then Seok-won bowed respectfully and spoke to the man again.

“I sincerely apologize. Since you mentioned you’re injured, let’s get you to the hospital first.”
“Huh? Uh, um…”

The man, who had expected a heated argument, found himself looking awkward instead as Seok-won immediately took full responsibility and admitted his mistake completely.

“Ahem.”

The man cleared his throat unnecessarily, then opened his mouth with a noticeably softened tone.

“Well, since you’re admitting fault, I’ll say this—be more careful driving from now on. We almost had a real disaster on our hands.”
“Yes.”

As Seok-won replied, four or five sturdy young men emerged from the blue van that had been stopped ahead and approached where the two stood.

“Is anyone injured?”

Turning his head to look, Seok-won immediately recognized that they were auxiliary police officers in dark uniforms.

‘Now that I think about it, those auxiliary police officers who were in a van heading to receive commendations as an outstanding unit at the Police Day ceremony also had an accident.’

Fortunately, because they had plunged through the center of the bridge deck and fallen to the ground below, they had all managed to escape unharmed.
Those auxiliary police officers, who had miraculously survived, displayed remarkable dedication by immediately rescuing other victims despite being accident victims themselves.

“I’m fine, but this gentleman says he injured his neck a bit.”

At that, an officer with the rank insignia of a gyeongwi—apparently the leader—glanced over the man standing beside Seok-won, who was holding the back of his neck.

“It appears the injury isn’t severe, which is fortunate.”

Honk honk!!

Behind me, the drivers of the bus and vehicles that had lined up began blaring their horns and shouting in frustration.

“How long are you going to block the road!”
“Move your car to the side! Don’t you see everything’s backed up behind us!”

As the angry chorus of voices thundered down upon us, the auxiliary police officer moved to manage the scene.

“Since this is obstructing traffic, let’s move the accident vehicle to the shoulder for now.”

I felt my heart sink. I needed to prevent the cars from ascending the bridge at all costs, yet the officer’s suggestion seemed to undermine that very goal.

“We can’t disturb the accident scene. Let’s wait until the police arrive.”
“Ha ha. Aren’t we the police?”

Unlike my growing desperation, the officer gestured reassuringly with his hand toward the back.
A tall auxiliary police officer stepped forward.

“Park Sang-gyeong. You brought a camera, right?”
“Yes.”

In response, the officer pulled out a compact camera from his hand and showed it.

“Good. For now, take photographs of the accident scene from various angles with that camera.”
“Understood.”
“You need to capture multiple shots from different perspectives as you move around. They could be used as evidence later.”
“Yes.”

I watched as the officer who had received the instructions began photographing the scene.

“Will this work?”
“Ah….”

Unable to offer any further excuses, I let out a regretful sigh.
Soon, the officer holding the camera straightened from his bent posture and spoke.

“I’ve finished photographing everything.”
“Good. Now let’s move the vehicle to the shoulder.”

At the officer’s words, the man who had been holding the back of his neck quickly nodded in agreement.

“Let’s do this. If we keep those people backed up any longer, they’ll start throwing stones.”

Even as the auxiliary police officer stepped in to manage the situation, curses and irritated shouts continued without pause.
Once the man climbed into his car, the officer hastily urged Seok-won, who stood hesitating, to hurry as well.

“Sir, please move your vehicle quickly.”

Seok-won glanced at his wristwatch with an uncomfortable expression.
It had just passed 7:38 in the morning.
As I heard the blaring horns from the drivers of the vehicles stopped behind me, the moment I began to move slowly forward.

CRAAAAAASH!

At the tremendous roar that erupted from behind, I spun around in panic and stared at Seongsu Bridge.

!

Under the overcast sky where rain had come and gone since morning, one section of the deck of Seongsu Bridge, which spanned the wide Han River, had simply collapsed and snapped clean in two.
Those who witnessed this shocking sight—the sudden disappearance of what should have been there—stood with wide eyes and expressions of utter astonishment.

“How… how did that happen?”
“The bridge collapsed!”
“Oh my God.”
“What in the world is happening?”

Everyone was seized by shock, unable to form coherent words.
Though I had seen accident scenes countless times on video, witnessing it directly before my eyes like this was a first for me, and the impact was no less severe.

‘So accidents that are meant to happen will happen regardless.’

I stood dazed, staring at the collapsed Seongsu Bridge, then turned to regard the buses and vehicles behind me that had stopped because of the accident I had caused.
Imagining how much more catastrophic it would have been if all those vehicles had climbed onto the bridge before the collapse occurred, I felt a wave of vertigo wash over me.

* * *

Brrrring! Brrrring!

“The bridge deck collapsed? Which section exactly?”
“The vehicles on the bridge fell into the water along with the deck!”
“What’s the situation at the scene?”
“Yes, yes. We’re aware of that.”

The Social Affairs Department office at Goryeo Daily News erupted into chaos as news of the Seongsu Bridge collapse spread—phones rang incessantly, and an avalanche of information poured in as if a bomb had detonated.
Amid the frantic developments, reporters collected and organized the incoming information, crafting their articles with urgency.
Yang Young-mo sat at his desk with the receiver wedged between his ear and shoulder, deeply engaged in a call with a junior reporter stationed at City Hall.

“So you’re saying the 5th and 6th support pillars in the middle of the Seongsu Bridge collapsed?”
[Yes. When the bridge gave way, the deck plummeted fifty meters, and several vehicles crossing it fell into the Han River along with the collapsed structure!]

City Hall was equally frantic; the junior reporter’s voice crackled through the receiver, shouting urgently over the deafening noise of the surroundings as he relayed the gathered information.

[Police and fire department personnel have rushed to the scene and are just beginning rescue operations, so we don’t have accurate casualty figures yet. However, given that the accident occurred during rush hour, there’s an expectation that the death toll will be substantial.]
“That figures.”

The accident had struck during the heaviest traffic period—the thought of how many people and vehicles had been on that bridge was horrifying.
Yang Young-mo’s expression hardened as he rapidly jotted down notes from the junior reporter’s account.

“Anything else?”
[It’s not confirmed yet, but there’s talk that the cause might be a pin connecting the truss that supports the bridge deck suddenly snapping under the load.]
“The connecting pin broke?”
[Yes. Apparently, the Seongsu Bridge that collapsed was constructed using a truss method that connects the deck sections with pins.]
“But?”
[The pins used to attach the deck were manufactured from high-strength steel to increase rigidity, but they have a weakness—they break easily.]

Yang Young-mo recalled an article he’d written not long ago, only to be chewed out by his department head, and let out a low groan.

“So the pin, which had been accumulating stress from the heavy vehicle traffic far exceeding the standard limit, finally couldn’t hold and snapped?”
[How did you know about the vehicle traffic volume? I haven’t mentioned that yet, senior.]

The junior reporter asked in a startled voice.
Yang Young-mo’s expression grew troubled, and he deftly changed the subject.

“Since I know, call me back as soon as you get any other information.”
[Yes, sir!]

After hearing the junior reporter’s response, Yang Young-mo hung up the phone and let out a curse that sounded almost like a groan.

“Damn it….”

Yang Young-mo swept his hair back with one hand, his eyes darkened with gloom as he stared intently at the hastily scribbled notes before him.
The excessive traffic volume exceeding safety limits and the inadequate maintenance and inspections were precisely the issues he had highlighted in his own article.
Yet the very bridge collapse he had feared might happen had now occurred for exactly those reasons—the guilt was inescapable.
Just as he was barely suppressing the curses rising in his throat, someone shouted loudly.

“Hey, they’re showing live footage from the scene!”
“What?”
“Turn up the volume!”

As if by agreement, everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads toward the television mounted on one wall of the office.
Yang Young-mo also sprang from his seat and moved toward the television sitting atop the waist-high shelf, fixing his gaze upon the screen.

[We’re now connecting with our news helicopter at the scene. The accident footage may be disturbing, so we ask the elderly and children to refrain from viewing….]

An announcer in a gray suit appeared on the large television screen with an urgent expression, connecting to the broadcasting company’s helicopter at the accident site.
The screen shifted, and footage from the helicopter showed the Seongsu Bridge spanning the murky Han River beneath an overcast sky, its deck section collapsed and severed cleanly in the middle.

“My God….”
“How could this happen.”
“Ah….”

Where the deck had fallen away, only the skeletal steel framework and shattered concrete debris clung precariously to the bridge piers.
As if someone had cleanly severed that section with their bare hands, the shocking sight left shock and sorrow etched across everyone’s faces.
Moments later, as the camera zoomed in to reveal the pathetically mangled vehicles that had plummeted into the river, soft groans escaped from those gathered.
Several female reporters in particular could no longer contain themselves and began weeping quietly.
Yang Young-mo too stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed blankly upon the television screen at the sheer horror of it all.
Then, as he turned his head with a look of profound despair, his eyes caught sight of Kim Deuk-han, the department head, standing among the crowd watching the live footage.
When Yang Young-mo looked at him with a face full of resentment, Kim Deuk-han seemed to sense the gaze, glanced around uncertainly, and their eyes met.

“….”

For a moment, Kim Deuk-han’s expression hardened—perhaps acknowledging his own culpability—before he awkwardly turned away first and disappeared into his office as if fleeing in panic.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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