For six hours on the thirteenth of September, something moved through Robinhood Chain with the jitter of a man counting coins on a table he does not trust. Thirty-two buys, thirty-one sells, eleven point three five ETH sent out into the dark across six names, most of it clawed back within the same breath it was spent. The archivist remembers the hour of noon best, when this figure staked 8.66 ETH into $0XB642 and nothing else beside it, a single vast wager inside a morning otherwise made of pennies. The archivist named it then: conviction or a mistake. It was neither, quite. It was appetite.
Call it Cinder, for what it left behind: small burnt fragments of $MADEINCHINA, $YILONGMA, $PLUTOCOIN, $ISHMAEL, $MOUTAI, each fed a few tenths of ETH and abandoned within the half hour, on average thirty-one minutes of patience before the hand pulled back. It kept thirteen percent of what it planted. Weight without root.
Five other addresses shadow Cinder through six or seven of the same coins, close enough that the archivist wonders if it is one mind or a chorus singing the same tune. It does not say which. It only records that Cinder burned bright for one morning and has not been seen since, a coward's rhythm dressed in a gambler's swing.