After the Hundredth Loss, My Fiancé Went Mad With Regret

Four years after I crossed into a parallel world, my fiancé had put me on the operating table ninety-nine times for his experiments.

The one saving grace was that I'd been born with the ability to regenerate.

The system said only one experiment remained, and then I could go home to my own world.

There, my fiancé loved me more than his own life.

Not like this world, where he treated me as a tool, a body he handed over so the female student he was funding could teach herself anatomy.

So even when post-op infections spiked my fever until I fainted, I never once refused to lie down on that table.

The hundredth dose of anesthesia pushed into my body.

I closed my eyes, and before I lost consciousness, I heard my fiancé and the doctor talking just outside the door.

"Mr. Farley, we've lied to Miss Fox for four years, made up this parallel world and this leveling system. When it's all over, can we really keep it from her?"

"We can. I hired the best hypnosis team there is."

"These four years, I've wronged her, I know. But her body is the ideal match for Maisie to practice on. The first ninety-nine experiments failed, but this time Maisie is going to succeed."

"Once the surgery is done, I'll make it up to her with the grandest wedding there is, and I'll spend the rest of my life with her."

Under the surgical drape, I opened my eyes, and my mind went blank.

So it had all been his scheme, staged for one reason: to make Maisie Henson's dream in medicine come true.

"By the way, this time we're removing the brain, not the eyeball. When she wakes up, be careful you don't let it slip."

The blood ran cold through my whole body.

He didn't know that my gift, my ability, came from a brain unlike anyone else's.

Once the brain is removed, it doesn't grow back. I would die, without a doubt.

...

On the table I fought with everything I had, but my limbs were strapped down and wouldn't move at all.

Maisie Henson walked in and lifted the drape, her face sour as she looked at me.

"What are you making a fuss for? The surgery's about to start. Stop thrashing."

"Let me go!"

My eyes were bloodshot. "I'm not doing the surgery!"

The mechanical voice blared inside my head.

【Warning! Warning! Host has only one final surgery remaining before leaving this parallel world.】

【Abandon now and everything resets to zero. Start over from the beginning.】

The old me would never have been willing to throw it all away at the last step.

But now I knew that voice was nothing more than a hallucination the hypnosis had planted in me.

Maisie sneered and called a nurse over to tighten the straps.

"Whether this happens isn't up to you. If you set my research back, can you bear that?"

Nigel Farley heard the commotion and came in from behind the door.

He frowned. "What's going on? Didn't she get the anesthetic?"

The doctor checked me over.

"Mr. Farley, we've used the anesthetic too many times. Miss Fox has developed a resistance. We'll have to switch to a different one."

"I'm not taking it!"

I screamed, "You can't open my skull!"

Nigel froze. "You heard everything."

He paused, then softened his voice. "Doesn't Miss Henson get those migraines? Take out the brain, grow a new one, and maybe it'll finally be cured."

"Nigel, I'll die."

The tears came before I could stop them, and my voice shook. "You lied to me for four years. I won't hold it against you. I'm only begging you to let me go this once. Please?"

He lowered his head and said nothing, something wavering behind his eyes.

"Faith Fox, what are you putting on this pitiful act for?"

There was a playful edge in Maisie's voice. "In four years, name me one surgery you didn't come through just fine."

"Nigel, if we don't start now, I'll miss Jacob Harmon's feeding time."

Jacob was the dog she kept.

He hesitated no longer and signaled the nurse to go on with the anesthetic.

"Faith, Jacob is delicate. He can't be left hungry."

"This is the last time. We've got a long life ahead of us, and I'll make it all up to you."

In his eyes, my life mattered less than whether a dog got fed on time.