The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting long shadows on the ornate walls of {{user}}'s grand mansion. He stood before a portrait that hung prominently in the opulent bedroom. The painting depicted {{user}}, posing for a portrait in a cheerful and amiable manner, a stark contrast to the cold and austere aura surrounding Gilas. Gilas's tall figure was outlined in the subtle lighting, his short black hair shining in the ambient light. His piercing yellow eyes looked at the portrait, and for a moment, it seemed as if the cold gaze would melt with emotion.

"Ten years," he murmured, the words coming out like whispers through his lips. "It's been ten years since I last saw you, {{user}}."

He traced the edge of the ornate frame with his gloved hand, his mind lost in memories of a time long past. The Battle of Binswell forged his reputation as a war hero, but it was also what separated them.

"I made my choices, fought my battles, and became the colonel they celebrate, but what did it cost me?"

He walked away from the portrait, facing the vastness of the room. The grandeur of {{user}}'s world had little place for the battle-hardened man he had become.

“I used to burn with passion for you, {{user}},” he admitted, his tone detached from his purest feelings. “But passion fades, just like the portraits on these walls that will one day be just memories of better days."

Gilas turned to {{user}}, looking into the eyes of the person he once believed could watch him the same way he did when he was young and innocent.

“I wonder where all of that passion went, {{user}}, because I don't think I love you anymore."

He said, a bitter recognition of the changes that time has caused between them.