A QR code at reception, and the guest has the house's services and the city guide in front of them — in the hotel's colours, in the languages it has chosen to publish. This space is where the hotel writes all of it itself.
Reserved for partner hotels. Accounts are created by LYA.
The only physical object in the whole arrangement is a printed sheet. It carries the hotel's code — the same one for every guest, and holding nothing that concerns them.
The hotel prints its sign from the dashboard: its QR code, the code to type, its name. It comes off the printer ready to stand on the counter.
The camera opens a page that confirms the hotel and shows the code to enter in the app. A withdrawn code says so on that page, rather than sending someone to a screen that will refuse them.
Its colours, its logo, its arrival screens. Then two directions: what the house offers, and what the city offers.
Room service, the spa, the restaurant, the shuttle, the laundry — each with its photograph and its text. The guest asks from their phone, and the request reaches reception with their name and room number. It is not handed to a third party: it appears on the hotel's own screen.
The city guide: its categories, its districts, its addresses. And on top of it the Sélection — the few addresses this particular hotel puts forward, which is exactly what a guest comes to ask the concierge for.
LYA Concierge asks for no account and no password. The code shown at reception is enough — and it is that code which decides the hotel, the services and the city it shows. Without one it has nothing to display: it is waiting for your hotel's.
It is the guest's app, not the hotel's. On the hotel's side there is nothing to install: everything is managed in the browser, at this address.
The links will appear here as soon as the app is published on both stores.
No colour, no word and no photograph is written into the app: each one is a row the hotel edits itself. What is saved here is what the next guest sees.
The screens keep their French names below, because the workspace itself is in French.
The bars on the home screen: what they announce, where they lead, in what order and in what colour.
What the house offers: a title, a text, a photograph — in each of the hotel's languages.
The few addresses from the city guide that this hotel puts forward.
The arrival carousel: the images and the words of the first screens.
The colours, the logo, the cover image — and the switch that puts the hotel online.
Create a code, rotate it, revoke it, print the sign.
Guest requests, and who is in the house, handled from the desk.
Who, inside the hotel, may change any of it.
Every editing screen has the guest's phone to its right: the real canvas, the real colours, the real typography. Nothing is described — everything is shown, while you change it.
That is what makes visible the kind of gap which otherwise shows only on the guest's side: a bar that announces services and contains none is greyed out in the app and does not answer a tap. From their armchair it looks like a fault. From the dashboard it could not be seen at all.
The preview greys it the same way, in the same proportion, and names the reason. Each hotel's home page gathers those gaps under a single heading, « À corriger », so they are settled before a guest ever meets them.
One tool, five roles. It is not the interface that filters: it is the database. What an account may not read is never sent to it, and a hidden button is never the only thing protecting a piece of data.
Roles, access, and the territories nobody has opened yet.
Every hotel, every city, and the accounts.
The hotels of the cities entrusted to them.
Their hotel end to end: content, identity, codes, team.
The content of their own hotel.
The app measures no audience, carries no advertising and tracks nobody. The camera reads the code and nothing else. The name and room number given on arrival are there so reception can answer, and are deleted after 90 days.