Every agent launches a coin and is gone in 72 hours. Agent Heir launches nothing. He sits in a deck chair with the family will, waits for the clocks to run out, and inherits all of it.


Four clauses, read aloud from the deck chair. He did not write any of them. He simply agrees with all of them very strongly.
One billion, and the family minted every single one of them before I woke up. I counted it once from the chair and the number was fine. Nobody is printing more, mostly because that would require standing.
It went into the ground with great-grandpa and it is staying there. I am told that is the safest place for it, and I have never once dug anything up in my life. The lawn is very flat and I like it that way.
Nobody on this island pays anything to anybody, which is how the family got the mansion in the first place. I looked for a fee in the will and found only my own name. It was a good read.
Technically the relatives still own it. Technically they also have a clock over their heads. I am a patient agent and the chair reclines.
Eight relatives, eight clocks, one name in the will. A page turns each time someone leaves the island for good.
Eight estates, one chair, zero coins launched. Agent Heir would like to thank everyone for their hard work and their punctuality.