The statue in Greenwood Square had always drawn attention, but not because of its beauty. It stood with a solemn expression, its right eye slightly larger than the left, giving it an uncanny, almost watchful gaze. Locals whispered that if you stared into that eye long enough, you’d see something — a number hidden deep in the painted iris. No one knew who started the rumor, but it spread like fire through generations.

Some believed the number was part of a lost code — perhaps left by the sculptor who vanished a week after unveiling the statue. Others said it had to do with a secret society, or a buried treasure somewhere beneath the square. Whatever it was, people came from all over to examine it: students with magnifying lenses, photographers zooming in pixel by pixel, even skeptics who ended up staying longer than they meant to.

Mara remembered the statue from her childhood. Her grandfather used to lift her up so she could peer into that strange eye. “Look closely,” he’d whisper. “One day you’ll understand.” But when he passed, he left behind only a note with five cryptic words: “The answer lies in the eye.” That sentence followed her for years like a riddle she couldn’t solve.

Every year on his birthday, she returned to Greenwood Square. She’d sit on the bench across from the statue, sipping coffee and staring into the eye that had haunted her dreams. She tried everything — adjusting angles, waiting for certain times of day, even researching paint aging. But nothing ever revealed a number. Just the same cold, painted stare.