This was written in 2019 and it is entirely unedited, presented here for those who are curious about the writing process and, of course, how Detective Lynx Wu and the magic thief Sutyu ‘Magician’ came to be. I’ll add a bit more of my thoughts at the end of the scene. This is rough writing, so bear with me, and I hope you enjoy this little glimpse behind the scenes.
The Original Sutyu - Read the deleted draft below!
The man yanked at his restraints, his arms pulled taut. “No, no!”
He might have imagined a knife. A gun? A nail. But it was only her hands. The painlessness of it was her only comfort.
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, but she wasn’t sure if he heard.
She cupped his face, intimate like a friend. His cheeks were rough with age, bristly from who knew how many days of not being allowed to shave. The warmth of him seeped through her, yielding flesh beneath her palms.
Gone in an instant. His body faded like an awful apparition, rippled with the ocean beyond as the city lights began to twinkle through him.
He never made a sound, for there was nothing to make any sound with.
The handcuffs clinked against the bars as they slid down to the sill. The man’s clothes crumpled to the floor.
He was gone.
Sutyu exhaled, careful not to let her breath hitch. When she turned, Pellego was smiling. He held up a small ziploc bag of tiny blue pills.
She marched over and snatched it from him.
“What, not even a thank you?”
Sutyu wouldn’t look at him. She wasn’t sure what she would do if she did, wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t break. As she rushed to get her shoes on, Hongsam watched her but didn’t dare say anything.
Pellego stood leaning against the wall. “I was doing you a favour. Without Mr Lee, the Luongpo Circus wouldn’t last.”
Sutyu furrowed her brow at the mention of a circus. “What?”
“You wanted to find the Magician. Now you can, because Jinli and her clowns are going to stay.”
“Don’t tell me you went and kidnapped him tonight for me,” Sutyu said, near spitting the words out.
“Well, no. I knew I wanted Jinli to stay. So, when you find him, Yuyu,” Pellego went on, a dark smile in the tone of his voice, “be sure to introduce me.”
She slammed the door shut.
The pill felt like plastic on her tongue. Then, a wash of tea and it was gone. She banged the plastic cup onto the table and burst into tears. She didn’t want to go home this time. The server gave her an awkward glance before hurrying on his way with a steaming bowl of noodle soup.
Even though it was two in the morning, the Dai Pai Dongs were still opened with a sprinkling of customers sitting out on the street on plastic stools at foldable tables. Sutyu sat in the shadows, where dishwater ran down the gritty concrete, under deep green hoses and aging plastic tubs. Fires flared from inside the kitchen, which was tucked away just inside the entrance and clouded with steam. There was constant clamour, staff hauling crates just out of sight and the scrape of the chef’s wok as browned noodles slid like silk onto a cracked orange plate. Barked Cantonese commands and a scurry of feet.
Sutyu stared up at the blackened facades of buildings that climbed the sky, willing herself to stop crying, but it was all she could do. Closing her eyes, she took a shuddering, deep breath, grounding herself with the stale, greasy air. The drug was taking effect. Her magic was beginning to quiet, the heat of it dwindling so she felt cold instead despite the steam from the kitchens.
She hugged herself, the evening chill suddenly pronounced, and wondered – not for the first time – why her magic only worked on others. She couldn’t just touch herself and disappear. She couldn’t just go.
The sound of a bowl being put in front of her made her look. Congee with pork and century egg in translucent black, sprinkled with chives. Sutyu frowned, sniffing. “I didn’t order this.”
The young man standing on the other side of the table looked about her own age, wearing a loose shirt and jeans, top button undone. Tussled long hair fell into his eyes, curled at the nape of his neck, giving him a gentle appearance. It was clear he wasn’t staff.
“I know,” he said, eyes shifting away, “but well, I thought maybe some food might make you feel better.”
This cartoon was trying to make her feel better? The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “I’m not hungry.”
“Have you had the congee here before?” When she shook her head, he carried on, “Best you’ll find anywhere. You gotta try it.”
Sutyu glanced at it, licking her lips at the thought of warm food. Her stomach did suddenly feel rather empty. The guy had sat down across from her.
“So you should have it,” she said, her voice still hoarse, “you’re paying for it, after all.”
“Don’t worry about it. Already ordered a second one before I came to you.”
A chuckle escaped her, like a flutter. “You weren’t worried I’d tell you to go and mind your own business, huh?”
He blinked at the thought, as if it hadn’t really crossed his mind, which made her laugh.
“Because who could ever refuse this congee, right?” she said between gasps. “Because you make a habit of approaching crying girls.” The metallic ring of the cuffs, rattling in her brain. Chalky soft skin against her palms. The crumpled clothes that smelled of an old man who wasn’t even given the privilege to die. He’d just become… nothing. “Because food makes everything all right. Food.”
No body, no grave. Not even ashes to scatter. His family forever looking because without a body, it must mean there was hope, right? She couldn’t stop, a laughing wail tearing through her innards, hugging herself so tight until her gasps became sobs and she wasn’t sure what she was doing anymore.
The rattling. The rattling wouldn’t stop. The way she could see through him. How would she ever get away from Pellego if she couldn’t control her magic properly? She shook her head, chilled to the core – and she wasn’t sure if it was because of her terror or the dead magic that lay shackled beneath the effects of the drug.
The tentative steps of a server approaching broke the spell, whispered and then pushed between the sound of rattling. Another bowl was placed onto her table.
The guy was still sitting there, now lifting a spoon to his lips.
He glanced up from his congee – the same as the first. With a soft smile, his eyes unreadable, he said, “Sec fan la.”
Let’s eat. Like they were friends.
Hers was lukewarm by now. The broken rice settled in her stomach like a blanket, warm and snug. She barely tasted it, but every time she checked on her companion, he was eating. A sip of tea, a spoon of congee, a bite of gelatinous century egg, bursting with flavour. He refilled her cup. Just the tap of a jug being returned to its place and the scrape of a soup spoon against a ceramic bowl. The silence was finally broken when the young man asked for the bill.
Sutyu reached for her purse. “No. I can’t let you pay for this.”
The server was already looking through the little receipt of hand-scribbled orders that’d been under the tub of chopsticks on the table. He fished the pen from behind his ear and began calculating.
Her companion shrugged. “Like you said, you hadn’t ordered it.”
“But-”
“That would be fifty dollars.” The server finished his scribbles with a flourish, a barely legible number now added to the bottom.
Sutyu opened her wallet and grimaced. She didn’t have enough change to pay in any case.
“Don’t worry about it,” the guy said, brushing hair from his eyes. He paid sixty and told the server to keep the change. “I think I’ll call it a night. You should too.”
She shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. “Nothing to do at home.”
“Not gonna sleep tonight, huh?”
The directness of it made her stiff, sending a tremor through her. But there was no magic tingling at her fingertips, thank God. Again, she shook her head.
He studied her for a moment, pity in his eyes, and she wasn’t sure if she hated him or herself for it. She couldn’t let this be it, let him leave with this impression of her. A weak, pathetic, crying girl. She didn’t want his pity.
As he bid her goodnight and was turning away, she spoke. “Wait.”
“Hm?”
“Let me pay you back.”
“There’s no need.”
What could she offer? She wanted to give him something special. Another bowl of congee wasn’t enough. Money wasn’t enough. Then it occurred to her. “The Shenjing Circus.”
He frowned. “Shenjing Circus?”
“It’s a new one in town. Just arrived. I can get you early entry, before they’re opened to the public.”
Now he smiled, amused. “And how?”
She bit her lip. Pellego didn’t need to feature in this. “I’ve got my contacts.”
“I see.”
“Let me take you.”
“I’m not sure. I don’t even know your name.”
Laughter whipped out of her, both delighting and surprising her. “Yet you came over and ate with me while I bawled my eyes out, and paid for it.”
“Despite what you said, I don’t make a habit of it, really.”
There was a pause. The smile slipped from her face and her voice became a plea. Why was this so important? “Please. It’ll make me feel better.”
“To take me to a circus.”
“Yes.”
“You’ve got some strange ideas there.”
Sutyu cocked her head, tickled. “No stranger than what you did tonight.”
“Fair point.”
“So is that a yes?”
“Are you asking me out?”
She grinned, and this time it didn’t feel like it was tinged with grief. It felt like relief. “Sure. Why not? I’m asking you out.”
He smiled back, and it looked kind. “Then how can I say no?”
I hope you enjoyed that!
If you notice, the Magician doesn’t refer to Sutyu here – it used to be Lynx. The whole deleted draft is about 32 pages long, and no one wants to read all that drivel. In this draft, the concept is there is a circus performer with creation magic, and his identity is unknown to Sutyu and the reader. Here, a person born with magic is so rare that when Sutyu sees a performance done with real magic, she’s desperate to find him in hopes that he could help her control her own ‘absence’ magic: magic that makes things disappear. Hence, the performer is ‘the Magician’, and, of course, it would have been our lead man, Lynx.
And if you haven’t guessed it, yes, of course the boy who bought her noodles is Lynx – or who used to be Lynx.
Lynx himself as a character resembles none of the previous iterations I have (there’s also a mansion lord in a steampunk setting where the name Lynx first came to me – that’s the very original idea of his conception). However, rereading this old draft makes me think I found Sutyu all the way here, and though the premise and context had changed, she hasn’t. At all. And I think that’s kinda cool.
What do you think? Do you see echoes of the Sutyu you know from my book, When the Mask Slips, where she is in her final version? Would you have liked me to continue writing this draft – perhaps change the names, of course – but would you like to see where this goes?
Message me and let me know. You can find me on instagram @iriskayanauthor – my DMs are open.
That’s all for now! Would you like to see Lynx’s mansion lord version? Or perhaps the scene where Sutyu watches circus boy Lynx’s performance – what did he do to spur Sutyu on a desperate search to find him?
Message me and let me know!
