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.