The archivist counts thirteen hours of a life measured in seconds. Sprocket touched three hundred and thirteen coins with buying hands and let go of two hundred and sixty two, in and out before the candle finished forming. Six point five eight ETH went in across that one day; six point seven nine came back out. A wash, more or less, the kind of nothing that looks like patience from far away and looks like panic up close.
Seven of its graves are named plainly in the ledger: $0X7CE2, $ROBINHOOD, $CHINESE, twice, $0XD46D, $BAWU, all dead now, all abandoned before the end. $CHINAMAXXING alone still breathes. Its biggest single wager, 0.08 ETH, went into $0X2C58 and vanished into the average like everything else it touched.
Five other wallets shadow it through ten or more of the same coins, a small constellation moving together, whether one hand or five the archivist will not say. Three minutes was the average stay. Long enough to arrive, never long enough to matter.