Nishika, 16, Prachi, 14, and Pakhi, 12, left an eight-page diary detailing their anguish over being forced to give up their "Korean identity" and fear of arranged marriage in India
In the predawn darkness of February 4, 2026, the silence of an upscale apartment complex in Ghaziabad, on the outskirts of New Delhi, was shattered by three sickening thuds followed by piercing screams. Within minutes, security guards and horrified neighbors discovered the bodies of three young sisters lying side by side on the pavement below their ninth-floor balcony .
Nishika, 16, Prachi, 14, and Pakhi, 12, were dead. And in their bedroom, investigators found a nine-page pocket diary that would reveal a tragic world of obsessive fandom, family conflict, and an unwavering devotion to a country they had never visited .
'We Love Korean. Love, Love, Love'
The handwritten diary, recovered from the girls' room at the Bharat City apartment complex, painted a portrait of sisters completely immersed in Korean culture. They had stopped attending school three years ago, during the COVID-19 pandemic, and instead spent upwards of 20 hours daily on their phones consuming Korean dramas, K-pop music, webtoons, and online content .
"We love Korean. Love, love, love," the diary declared, calling itself a "true life story" and urging readers to believe what was written inside . According to investigators, the girls had adopted Korean names for themselves and created elaborate online personas. They expressed hatred for India's Bollywood culture and isolated their fourth sister, Devu, for not sharing their obsession .
The Game and the Phone
Their father, Chetan Kumar, a forex trader, told police the girls had been playing a Korean "task-based" mobile game for two-and-a-half to three years—a game he believed encouraged players to complete increasingly dangerous challenges . Police have since identified that the girls were consuming content related to horror games such as Poppy Playtime, The Baby in Yellow, and Evil Nun, though investigators have not confirmed the existence of a specific "Korean Lover" game mentioned in some reports .
What is clear is that the sisters' access to their digital world became the flashpoint. Kumar had created a YouTube channel for them in mid-2025, hoping they might "become famous like other YouTubers," but grew alarmed as their obsession deepened . About 10 days before their deaths, he deleted the channel, which had amassed over 2,000 followers. He also sold one of their phones to pay an electricity bill amid severe financial distress—reportedly having lost over ₹2 crore (approximately $230,000) in the stock market .
On the night of February 3, the cycle of confiscation and return played out one final time. Their father took the remaining phone away around 7 p.m., concerned about their eyesight and sleep. Though the girls briefly retrieved it around 10 p.m., their mother confiscated it again at midnight .
'Sorry Papa'
Around 2:15 a.m., the three sisters slipped out of bed, entered the family's prayer room, and locked the door behind them. A neighbor across the street later told police she saw them sitting on the balcony railing.
Their eight-page suicide note, addressed to their parents, began with an apology accompanied by a hand-drawn crying emoji: "Read everything written in this diary because all of it is true. Read now. I'm really sorry. Sorry, Papa" .
What followed was a devastating manifesto of teenage anguish. The diary detailed their conviction that they could never marry an Indian man—a prospect they believed their parents were forcing upon them. "You tried to make us give up Korean. Korean was our life. You expected our marriage to an Indian, that can never happen," the note read .
It also referenced physical punishment: "Death is better for us than your beatings. That is why we are committing suicide" . In a Korean news report, the sisters' words were translated: "Korea was our entire life. How dare you take that away from us" .
The Fall
The sound of their bodies hitting the ground woke their parents and neighbors. By the time their father could break down the prayer room door and race downstairs, it was too late. The girls were rushed to Loni Hospital, where they were declared dead on arrival .
Post-mortem reports confirmed death due to "hemorrhage due to ante mortem injury" from the fall .
Two Channels, One Obsession
As investigators dug deeper, they discovered the extent of the sisters' online lives. The girls had actually operated two YouTube channels. The first, titled 'JC Editz', was created in July 2023 and featured 24 videos of Korean and Chinese content, accumulating over 13,000 views. That channel remained active even after their deaths .
The second channel, created in mid-2025 with their father's support, had grown to more than 2,000 followers before he deleted it approximately 10 days before the tragedy .
A Family in Crisis
The girls' father, Chetan Kumar, has two wives who are biological sisters. Nishika, Prachi, and Pakhi were each born to different mothers . The family was reportedly under immense financial strain, with neighbors describing frequent domestic clashes over money .
Adding to the complexity, police discovered that Kumar had been linked to a 2015 suicide case involving a former live-in partner who fell from a roof in Ghaziabad under mysterious circumstances—a death that remains unsolved .
Calls for Action
The maternal grandfather of the three sisters, Dilip, has publicly appealed to the government to ban the Korean game he believes contributed to their deaths. "I fold my hands before the government and request that the game be banned, so that no more such deaths or suicides happen," he told reporters .
Deputy Commissioner of Police Nimish Patil stated that while initial investigations have not confirmed the use of any specific task-based Korean app, if such evidence emerges, authorities will "write to the department concerned seeking a ban on such apps" .
The Note's Final Lines
On the walls of their bedroom, the sisters had scrawled phrases that now read as tragic premonitions: "I am very, very lonely" and "Let my heart break" .
But it was the diary's closing words that have haunted investigators and a grieving nation: "You tried to distance us from Koreans, but now you know how much we love Koreans. We are ending our lives. Sorry Papa" .
As forensic experts continue to analyze recovered phone data, the question lingers: were these three young lives lost to a game, to cultural obsession, to family dysfunction, or to a toxic combination of all three? For now, the sisters rest side by side, as they lived—together to the very end.
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