The Childcare System’S Youngest Host
The Loveless Child
Children his age laughed, cried, and ran freely, but he was different. He sat quietly in the corner of the small apartment, his knees drawn to his chest, listening to the muffled voices of his parents arguing in the next room.
They never argued about him.
They hardly mentioned him at all.
When he tugged at his mother’s sleeve, she brushed him aside with, “Go play by yourself.”
When he looked up at his father, the man’s eyes slid past him as if he were nothing more than furniture.
At first, he had tried. He had tugged harder, smiled wider, laughed louder—waiting for their attention.
But nothing came.
He stopped asking for toys.
He stopped asking for hugs.
He even stopped crying because he had learned that no one would wipe his tears.
At school, it wasn’t much better.
Other children looked at his quiet face and called him strange. They shoved him on the playground, whispered behind his back. When he fell and scraped his knee, he stood up without a sound, brushing the dirt away.
The teachers pitied him, but pity was not love.
Every day, he returned to the empty apartment, tidied up the mess his parents left behind, and sat silently until they came home. His small hands learned to wash dishes, fold clothes, sweep floors.
A child’s hands should have been holding toys.
But his carried burdens too heavy for his age.
Still, he never asked for help.
In his chest, a dull ache grew—a longing for something he had never truly received. He didn’t know what it felt like to be kissed on the forehead, to be tucked into bed, to be told, “I love you.”
Sometimes, late at night, he whispered those words to himself, pretending someone else had said them. But even that, eventually, he stopped.
Because he was too mature for such dreams.
At four years old, he understood that love was something meant for others, not for him.
And so, the boy grew quiet.
The boy grew still.
The boy grew old inside a small body, becoming something no one noticed—
a child who never wept.
Meeting Ella
[At the small shop where Ellias works part-time]
Manager: Hey, kid. Carry those boxes to the back.
The boxes were taller than him, heavier than they should have been. But he didn’t complain. He never did.
Customer: Isn’t that boy too young to be working?
Manager (shrug): He doesn’t cry. Gets things done. That’s good enough.
His tiny steps wobbled, arms straining. He had done this many times before… but today, his foot slipped.
A box fell, something sharp striking his small head. Warm blood slid down his face
Ellias
(thinking): So this is… it? I wonder… would anyone notice I’m gone?
Ella(system)
Host confirmed. Name: Ellias. Age: 4. Status: deceased.
Ella(system)
Oh dear… a child host? Poor baby, don’t be scared, okay?
Ella(system)
My name is Ella. I’ll take care of you.
Ellias
…What do I have to do?
Ellias
You said I’m the host. That means I have missions, right? Tell me what they are
Ella(system)
…Wait, wait, wait! You’re four years old! Aren’t you supposed to cry for your mommy? Or panic? Or scream you want to go back?
Ellias
(flat)They wouldn’t come for me. So… tell me the mission.
Ella(system)
(thinking): This child… he’s not like the others.
Ella(system)
Alright then. Your missions are about love.
Ella(system)
Yes. You’ll enter the bodies of children who are neglected, unwanted, unloved.
Ella(system)
Your task isn’t just to live. It’s to make their parents truly see them… and love them
Ellias
(quiet)…To be loved.
Ella(system)
That’s right. ❤️
Ella(system)
(soft gasp)(thinking)…He’s only four, yet he speaks like this…
First mission
A faint light pierced the darkness.
Ellias opened his eyes… and found himself in a small room. The walls were cracked, the bed was thin, and his body—weak, thin, with bruises hidden under the sleeves.
He sat up slowly, realizing he wasn’t himself anymore.
Ella(system)
(gentle voice) Ellias, can you hear me?
A soft chime echoed in his mind. And there she was—Ella, the system bound to him. Her voice sounded like a big sister he never had
Ella(system)
Good. This is your first mission. Let me explain.
She showed him flashes of memory: a boy about his age, living in this very house. His name was Noah, six years old. His parents worked far away and barely visited. When they did, they only scolded him, never hugged him. He was left with relatives who saw him as a burden.
Ella(system)
This child… Noah… he is unloved, forgotten. His parents send money, but not love. Your mission is to change that
Noah(MC/Ellias)
…So I must make them love him
Ella(system)
Exactly. You don’t just need them to notice you. You need them to truly love you as their child.
Ellias looked at his thin hands. They trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of the task.
Noah(MC/Ellias)
(softly) Love… can something like that… be earned?
Ella(system)
(gently) You’re still a child, Ellias. Just try. Live as Noah. Be yourself. And maybe… they’ll see the treasure they already had.
Noah(MC/Ellias)
…Alright. I’ll do it.
He looked out the cracked window. In the distance, he saw a pair of adults walking up the path—the parents who abandoned this body, returning for a short visit.
His mission… had already begun.
Download NovelToon APP on App Store and Google Play
