Someone holds a hundred billion dollars but hasn't spent a penny in over a decade.

This isn't a story about a monk's discipline but the biggest mystery in the crypto world—Satoshi Nakamoto and his 1.1 million Bitcoins.

Based on current market prices, this amount could buy several small countries. But it just lies there in the genesis address, like a vault that never opens. No one knows who holds the key, and no one is even sure if the owner is still alive.

In 2008, the year Lehman Brothers collapsed, a 9-page white paper emerged out of nowhere. The author signed as "Satoshi Nakamoto," proposing a crazy idea: to record transactions without relying on banks, using computers worldwide. He personally mined the first coins, set up the framework, and then—disappeared.

No farewell speech, no heir designated. The community was just getting started when the founder vanished; any company would have collapsed under such circumstances. But Bitcoin didn't. It grew on its own, transforming from a geeky toy into El Salvador's legal tender, and being included in Wall Street fund asset allocations.

That huge stash has remained untouched. Technical malfunction? Unlikely. Deceased? Maybe. But there's a third explanation—that it’s a declaration.

He might not move the coins not because he can't, but because he chooses not to. Once that address makes a transfer, "Satoshi Nakamoto" shifts from a symbol to a real person, from a spiritual leader to an ordinary individual with desires. The ideal of decentralization would be compromised at that moment.

Some estimates suggest that if all 1.1 million coins were sold at once, the market would crash instantly. But after more than ten years, those coins seem sealed, acting as the system's most stable ballast.

Perhaps that's the cleverest part: he achieved presence through absence, maintained the rules through silence.

What do you think? Is that money truly lost, or is it intentionally left untouched? If one day a transfer suddenly occurs, what would happen to Bitcoin's price?