One day in the International Institute of Magical Research, a young researcher burst into the office of his superior, gasping for breath and babbling incoherently. The senior wizard smiled warmly.

"What's troubling you, m'boy? You look as though you'd seen a gaggle of ghosts!"

"Y-y-you wouldn't believe me if I told you, sir."

"Try me! I think you'll find I'm quite a fan of stories."

"W-well...

As you know, I've been seeking out magic users all around and cataloging the different Classes they belong to. I've seen several Traditionalists, a few White Mages, even an Alchemist or two. Today, I found a little rural potion shop in the foothills."

"Ah yes, I believe I've heard of that little place..."

"Well, I went in and spoke to the proprietor, Ms. Carogne. Charming lady, very Southern. Wore a rather ugly coonskin cap-"

"Really? What an odd fashion choice!"

"H-ha, that's not even the strangest thing. So, to fulfill my research, I asked her the usual rigmarole of questions. You know, how long have you worked with magic, when did your powers manifest, so on and so on...

After a while, we hit the last question: What Class of magic would you say you belong to?"

"Well, seeing as she ran a potion shop, I'd hazard a guess Alchemy?"

"I thought so, too. I looked at my clipboard and prepared to write her answer when she said something that chilled me to the bone:

"That's easy! I'm a Lich!"

I looked up slowly, thinking I misheard her. As soon as I saw her grinning skull, I ran. I guess she dropped the Glamour for laughs. I-I ran all the way here."

"...oh my. Take the rest of this week off. I believe you've earned it."