The founding king Taejo completed the first phase of Gyeongbokgung in 1395 and moved in that same year, anchoring the new capital of Hanyang -- now Seoul -- around the palace. But it was under Sejong the Great, who made Gyeongbokgung his primary residence in 1421, that the palace became truly significant. Sejong expanded and renovated the grounds, filling them with scientific instruments: the water clock Borugak Jagyeongnu, astronomical observatories, and facilities for producing movable type. Most consequentially, the Hall of Worthies within the palace served as the workshop where Sejong and his scholars developed Hangul, the native Korean script that replaced reliance on Chinese characters. For a hundred years after Sejong, the palace held steady. Then in 1592, during the Imjin War, Japanese invaders reduced it to ash. Who actually set the fires remains debated -- some contemporary Korean sources suggest angry commoners destroyed palace records -- but the result was the same: total devastation.

What makes Gyeongbokgung's story unusual is not that it was destroyed -- many palaces have been -- but that it stayed destroyed for so long. After King Seonjo returned to the capital, he ordered reconstruction plans drawn up, but Joseon's treasury was exhausted from the war. Resources went to rebuilding Changdeokgung instead, and Gyeongbokgung sat as a ruin for 270 years. Successive monarchs expressed interest in rebuilding but never found the money or political will. It was not until 1865 that Queen Sinjeong, regent for the young King Gojong, finally ordered the palace rebuilt. Construction continued until 1888, surviving two major fires along the way. The first electric light in Korea was switched on within these walls in 1887. But the rebuilt palace would serve the royal family for barely two decades before the next catastrophe arrived.

Japan's dismantling of Gyeongbokgung was deliberate and systematic, aimed at erasing the physical symbol of Korean sovereignty. After colonizing Korea in 1910, the Japanese government began auctioning off palace buildings, most of which were purchased by Japanese buyers and shipped to Japan. The 1915 Chosen Industrial Exhibition was staged inside the palace grounds, requiring the demolition of dozens of structures to make room. One building, Jaseondang, was reassembled in the Tokyo home of the businessman Okura Kihachiro. The centerpiece of the colonial program was the Government-General of Chosen Building, a massive Western-style headquarters begun in 1916 and completed in 1926. It was positioned to block the view of the throne hall Geunjeongjeon from the main gate -- an architectural assertion that the old Korean order had been replaced. By the end of the colonial period, the palace that once held 500 buildings had 40.

Liberation in 1945 did not immediately help. The Government-General Building was repurposed as South Korea's Central Government Building. During the Korean War, the palace suffered further damage and looting. Meaningful restoration did not begin until the 1980s. The most symbolically charged moment came in 1995-96, when the Government-General Building was demolished after intense public debate. Its removal cleared the way to restore the throne hall's sightline to Gwanghwamun gate for the first time in seventy years. The First Gyeongbokgung Restoration Plan, running from 1990 to 2010, rebuilt 89 structures. A second plan, extending to 2045, continues the work. In 1995, Jaseondang's remains were returned from Japan. The changing of the guard ceremony was revived in 2002. The palace now has about 25 percent of its original buildings, with dozens more scheduled for reconstruction.

From 2005 through 2024, Gyeongbokgung recorded over 56 million visitors, more than any other tourist site in Seoul. The palace has reinvented itself as a living cultural venue. Since 2010, nighttime openings have drawn over 100,000 visitors per year, illuminating the traditional architecture in ways daytime visits cannot replicate. A 2013 policy offering free admission to anyone wearing hanbok, traditional Korean clothing, transformed the visitor experience -- and the surrounding neighborhood, which sprouted dozens of hanbok rental shops almost overnight. In 2024 alone, 1.8 million visitors arrived in hanbok. The palace now hosts dinners of Korean royal court cuisine and performances of traditional music for limited audiences. It is, in the end, exactly the kind of place its name promises: one where happiness persists despite everything history has thrown at it.